The Esme Chronicles: The Human Years
by Esme Mom Cullen
Summary: The Human Years begins when Esme is just a child. She tells her own story as she meets Dr. Cullen for the first time, teaches, marries, escapes and then falters in the face of the ultimate heartbreak. It is the true story of your favorite vampire mom.
1. July 1901

_Chapter 1 – July 1901_

Ringlets of curls fell around the six year old girl's little face as she stared down at the book on her lap. She read out loud to the small but enthralled audience gathered around her.

"He thought her more charming than ever, and, a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, gave her two sisters a home in the palace, and that very same day married them to two great lords of the Court. The End."

She looked up and smiled at her admirers as she heard clapping coming from behind her. She turned toward the sound and beamed at the lady standing in the doorway.

"Grandmother!" she exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and ran to her.

The woman laughed heartily as she scooped her up and kissed her cheek. "Hello darling. Who are you reading to?"

"My dolls. Molly and Kristen. I was teaching them the story of Cinderella."

"Teaching? You mean reading to them," the woman said correcting the very forthright child.

"No, I wanted them to learn it, like school."

"Ah, I see," the woman said as she carried the pretty girl over to the child's bed and sat down on the edge, shifting the girl to her lap. "Does that mean you like school?"

Smiling brightly and with a new enthusiasm, "I love school and my teacher."

The older woman chuckled, "That's wonderful news. Let's hope it stays that way."

Suddenly a knock and a man's voice from the door interrupted, "Mother, it is time."

"I will be there in a moment," she said to the man as she moved the girl off her lap and onto the bed, "Now be a good teacher to Molly and Kristen. Soon you will have a real baby, a baby sister or brother, to teach."

"Oh! It is that time," the child said, jumping to her feet and running for the door but her grandmother interceded, "No, you stay here. We'll come get you when your sibling is ready to meet you."

Her face full of disappointment, the girl looked up at her grandmother and sighed. "Alright."

The grandmother smiled as she bent down and hugged and kissed the girl, "No matter what you will always be my special girl. I love you Esme."

"I love you too grandmother."

And with that the woman was out the door to attend to the birth of a second child by her daughter and son-in-law, leaving her only grandchild playing with or teaching as she liked to say, her few dolls.

* * *

"Esme, come here and meet your baby sister," her mother called out softly from the big bed.

Shyly, still clutching her grandmother's skirt in the doorway, Esme peaked over at her mother and the bundle in her arms. With a gentle nudge from her grandmother, and her father stepping forward to take one of her hands, Esme made her way to the bed.

Her father lifted her up and sat her next to her mother so she could examine the bundle closely. Her mother smiled at her as she adjusted it so that she could see the tiny sleeping face.

Esme's eyes grew wide, "She's so small!" cried out the astonished girl.

The adults in the room all laughed at Esme's amazement and she looked around bewildered from face to face.

Her father sat down next to her, and positioning her arms just right as he said, "Here Esme, put your arms like this."

Still in awe, her mother placed the baby in her arms, "Esme," she said, "meet your sister, Millicent."

Esme's eyes were glued to the real baby in her laps as she tried unsuccessfully to repeat the name. Esme's mother chuckled, "You can call her Millie."

"Millie," Esme repeated still staring at the baby. "Nice to meet you Millie. I'm Esme. I am your big sister."

"And as big sister, you need to watch over Millie and protect and guide her, right dear?" quizzed her mother.

"Of course!" Esme exclaimed, braver now, beginning to rock the baby slightly.

The entire time, her grandmother stood against the wall by the door silently watching the happy family, especially her dearest Esme. The child was all light and warmth. It's not that Catherine and Robert were cold, far from it. They loved their daughter dearly and were so happy to finally be blessed with a second child. But Esme was special. She knew it from the day she was born and it wasn't just because she was her first grandchild. She was a good baby, giving her mother little trouble and rarely ill. She has always been particularly bright but she also was just full of joy. She radiated love, more than she ever received back from her parents and now as she watched her looking down at this baby, she knew that Millie would be the most cared for little sister who ever lived.


	2. September 1905

_Chapter 2 – September 1905_

"No, like this Millie." Esme showed Millie again, the placement of her fingers on the piano's keys. This time the four-year-old made just one mistake. Esme smiled, "Much better."

"Esme dear, maybe Millie is a little young for piano lessons," her grandmother called from across the room where she sat with one-year-old William on her lap.

"No I'm not!" Millie protested with a sour look at her grandmother.

"Millie," said Esme, "Be nice to grandmother."

Grandmother gave a stern glance to Millie and a hint of a smile and a nod at 10-year-old Esme.

"Mother?" Catherine called from the kitchen.

"Yes?" Grandmother called back.

"Can you put down Will for a nap and Millie too if she needs it. I'm up to my elbows in flour."

"Sure dear," she said looking over at Millie yawning. "She needs it." Grandmother tried to stand up but was having trouble doing so. Esme sprung into action.

"You stay here grandmother, I'll take care of them," as she walked over and picked up Will from her lap. "Come on Millie," she said taking her hand as they left the room with her Grandmother watching the "little mother" leading the children off to nap time.

"Thank you Esme," she called to her as she sat back into the chair, mad at herself for her advancing age. She wasn't well and she knew it. She wanted so much to see these children grow, to see Esme married and happy with her own children some day but with each day and each pain, her doubt grew that she would be there for those events.

Esme wandered back to the living room, "I changed Will's diaper and he went right to sleep. Millie complained a little but went to sleep too."

"Good girl. Thank you dear," Grandmother said, tapping the space next to her on the sofa, "Come sit with me."

Esme smiled and went over and sat next to her favorite person in the world. Her grandmother put her arm around her shoulder pulling her close, Esme's head resting against her. "I hear you still are doing excellent at school little one, straight A's?"

"Always grandmother. I love learning new things."

"That is good. I hear from your mother that your teacher told her that you help out the younger students."

She shook her head up and down, "I like to help."

Grandmother pulled Esme tighter, "You are such a treasure dear."

"Esme!" Catherine called out from the kitchen, "I need you to come help me with dinner."

"Yes mother!" she called out without question. She looked at her grandmother, "I have to go."

Grandmother squeezed her one more time, "I love you so much."

"I love you too grandmother!" Esme said as she hugged her back and then stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Grandmother watched her granddaughter bounce out of the room as she began coughing.


	3. November 1907

_Chapter 3 – November1907_

"Unto Almighty God we commend the soul of our sister departed, and we commit Esme Anne's body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection unto eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ…"

The minister droned on as she starred down into the hole in the ground before her. Esme couldn't believe her grandmother, her namesake, was gone. It had been difficult watching her slowly waste away the last two years but even until the end, she was good spirits.

The night before the morning when she didn't wake up, Esme sat with her as she did her homework. She thought she was asleep but suddenly she heard her calling to her.

"Esme," she called, "come closer dear."

She closed the book on her lap and moved her chair up against the bed as her grandmother reached for her hand. She took her frail fingers in her own. "Yes," she said listening expectantly.

"Esme, my girl, be happy. You are so good. You are going to have such a happy life. I know it. You are going to marry a wonderful man and make him thank his stars every day that he has you. You will raise a beautiful family and be blessed with many children and will be the best mother that any child could ever ask for."

"And you will be there, helping me," said the girl, tears brimming in her eyes, suddenly sounding much older than her 12 years of age.

The old lady chuckled and squeezed her hand, "I will be in spirit dear. I'll be watching over you but my body is failing me." Tears were now falling down Esme's cheek, "Don't cry for me Esme. I will be with your grandfather soon. I love you Esme. You have always been my girl."

"I love you too grandmother, more than anyone in the world. What will I do without you?" she said as she rested her head by her grandmother's hand.

As she stroked the girl's hair, slowly fading into a dream, "You will live Esme, you will live."

Esme looked up and could see by her closed eyes and patterned breathing that she was sleeping. She kissed her cheek, and said one more, "I love you," before gathering up her school books and leaving the room.

When Catherine went into the room the next morning with her breakfast, she found that her mother, Esme Anne Barstow, was gone from this world.

The family mourned for the loss of this angel in their life but none more than Esme. As she watches the dirt go into the ground, she thought about what her grandmother said that night and thought, 'Please watch over me. I will live. I will be happy but I need you. I love you.'

"Amen."


	4. June 1909

_Chapter 4 – June 1909_

"Robert she is such a bright girl, let her come to Columbus," argued Michael Platt, Robert's cousin.

"No," he said, by now very agitated, "I need her here on the farm."

"You have two other children that can help out and she'll be home during the summer. She has had straight As since she started and she should have a chance to continue her education."

Esme was suppose to be asleep but she was listening intently at the conversation going on down the hall between her father and his cousin. It was last the week of school and if Michael Platt, her father's college educated cousin, didn't convince her father otherwise, it would be her last week of school ever.

"She's a girl. She will get married soon enough and her education won't matter."

"Robert!" Catherine said more out surprise than scolding.

Robert looked at her reproachfully before she could say anything else and her mouth shut, her head looking down.

Michael tried a different approach, "Robert, how about a trial basis. Let her come stay with me and Sarah in the fall. She can start secondary school with Helen and if the farm begins to fall apart without her, then I'll send her home straight away."

Catherine spoke up quietly, "Robert we can manage long enough to let her try."

Robert looked back and forth between his wife and his cousin. "Fine, she can try but if she gives me any trouble during this summer she isn't going anywhere."

Catherine couldn't help but chuckle.

"What are you laughing at woman?" Robert asked, still with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Esme, give you trouble? She is the most obedient child on earth. A trained dog would give you more trouble than Esme," she turned toward Michael now. "If that is his stipulation, you will be raising my daughter for the better part of the next four years."

Michael smiled at Catherine, "Well you know we would be happy to have her."

Esme smiled as she listened to her parents and Michael discuss the arrangements for her for the fall. She would miss her parents and her siblings but she reveled in the opportunity to learn more. As she drifted off to sleep, she wasn't so sad about it being the last week of school.


	5. Summer 1911

_Chapter 5 – summer 1911_

It was good to be home I thought as I stepped into the front door of the farmhouse.

"Esme!" William, now seven years old, ran to me and threw his arms around my waist. I reached down and tried to pick him up but he had grown so much in the last year that I couldn't lift him anymore.

"Will, did you grow a foot while I was in town?" I smiled, bending down to his eye level.

"Yes he has and he's eating us out of house and home," said my mother as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and came over to me and gave me a hug followed by a once over. "My Esme, you are looking so grown up and sophisticated," she said with a slight mix of shock and maybe even annoyance.

For the last two school years, I have lived with my father's cousin Michael, his wife Sarah and their two daughters, Helen, who was my age and Grace, who is four years older than Helen and I and close to being engaged. Michael and Sarah have two older sons, George and Howard, who have been long out of the house, on their own with a wife by each of their sides. Michael and his family are not rich but they are well off. Michael is a manager of some sorts at one of the many buggy companies in Columbus. While my family was not poor, we were definitely a step or two below Michael's family when it came to income. No one in Columbus has ever treated me less worthy because of that fact. Michael and Sarah have been nothing but kind to me and in some cases, especially when it came to whatever I needed for school, including clothing, they have been doting and almost too generous.

My mother continued, "I hope you have some clothes that still fit you that are more appropriate for work. There will be no need for that fanciness this summer."

"It is good to see you mother," I kindly said as I kissed her cheek. I turned to the quiet girl watching from the corner with a scowl on her face, "Hello Millie."

She continued to stare at me harshly, not saying a word until my mother admonished her, "Millie, Esme said hello to you. She's come home for the summer."

"Hello Esme," Millie mumbled. I took initiative to walk over to her and give her a hug, whether she wanted one or not, I was happy to see her.

"Millie, I'm so looking forward to hearing about what you have been up to and your school year."

With that she wrestled out of my grip on her and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. I looked at my mother stunned and hoping for an explanation.

"Let's just say Esme, she is not the student you were and are. Not only are her grades marginal but her behavior has gotten her lashed on several occasions," she shook her head, "It is no less than she deserves for her constant prattling on in class. She knows better."

I didn't say anything. I just nodded in agreement and in a hurry to end this conversation, "I'm going to unpack," I turned toward the hall but stopped short and looked at my mother and my brother and smiled, "I'm happy to be home mother." I headed to my room, the one that was once my grandmother's, and began to unpack.

* * *

There was a knock on my bedroom. It was late.

My mother's cooking was a great welcome home. While my parents asked me quite a few questions about my time in Columbus, I could sense a certain amount of tension in the room. Although my father had begrudgingly allowed me to continue my education, he didn't think it was necessary and wasn't quiet about that fact. As I listened to my mother tell me about what had been happening in the area I knew I was in a better place during the school year.

I opened the door to find Millie on the other side of it.

"Are you alright Millie?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course dear. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable." She walked in awkwardly, seeming unsure about being in my room but went over and sat on the bed. I went over and sat next to her."What is it dear?"

Her face screwed up tightly and I couldn't tell whether she was angry or sad and honestly, I don't think Millie knew either as she demanded, "I want you to stay home! Don't go back to Columbus in the fall!"

Surprised, "Millie, why?"

"Because without you here everyone talks about you!"

"Talks about me? Who is everyone?"

"Mother and father! They complain because you aren't here but then the yell at me for not being more like you!" She began mocking our parents, "Millie, why can't you behave like your sister? Millie, why can't you be smart like Esme? Millie why can't you be absolutely perfect like, Esme?"

She was crying and sat there feeling like someone had slapped me across my face. I knew my parents had mixed feelings of pride and indignation when it came to my time in Columbus but I felt sorry that Millie has become the victim of their irrational responses.

I hugged her, trying to sooth her. "I am so sorry Millie that mother and father are speaking to you like that but I don't know what my staying at home will do to resolve it."

"If you stay home, then they can't complain that you are gone and they won't compare me to you anymore."

The rationality of a 10 year old didn't equate in my 16 year old brain.

"Millie dear, I don't think that will work, but before I leave in the fall, I will talk to mother and father about you. I will ask them to stop comparing you to me because you are unique and shouldn't be held up to anyone for comparison." She smiled up at me through her tears and I continued, "But you need to do something for me in return. You need to try harder in school and stop talking in class."

She nodded in agreement.

"Alright then dear, you should get off to bed before mother realizes you are out of bed."

Millie hugged me and whispered thank you in my ear before rushing out of the room.

I sighed and thought that at least I had a few months to prepare myself before having to confront my parents about Millie. That would not be a conversation I was looking forward to having in late August.

* * *

The shed door was open but barely a breeze came through. The sun was inching its way along the floor as the sun moved west on this early August afternoon. It was hot and humid. I could feel the sweat running down my neck under my braid and had undone my top button just to get some air. I was happy though as I sanded the wood on the arm of the old rocking chair, even if I had to keep wiping the sweat off my hands with my skirt. It was nice to be alone, isolated in this sanctuary with no sound but some bird chirping in the distance.

I had finished my chores for the day and had retreated to my father's shed to relax. My father and I had little in common and our interests were completely different. The one passion we did share, that I inherited from him and the many hours I spent in this shed watching him work, was woodworking. I watched him make toys for my siblings, cabinets for neighbors, chairs for our dining table and so much more over the years. When I was younger I would sit here for hours, listening to sounds of saws and knives and smelling the aroma of pine, oak or whatever wood he was working with that day. As I got older, he would let me help. I learned the tools and the trade although it would never be more than a hobby as it was now to my father.

This chair, the one that I had seen my grandmother rock in for hours, the one she had rocked my mother in as a baby, had been languishing in the corner in here since before she passed, more than four years ago. It brought back so many memories of sitting on my grandmother's lap as we read stories or in some case made them up. A spindle had broken and had never been repaired. I asked my father if I could restore it and he, with no fuss, agreed. I now sat here, sanding away bits of time in order to bring it a new life, a second life.

My revelry was broken though as I heard two sets of small feet running toward the shed door and before I knew it Will and Millie had flown through the door, red face, sweating and breathing hard. "Esme," Will said, "Please help us."

My muscles froze as my eyes ran over the two of them who looked physically fine except for obviously hot, "What's wrong Will?"

"There's a cat, stuck in a tree, near Mrs. Hudson's property."

"We think it is her cat!" added Millie.

I couldn't help but laugh, "All this agitation over a cat? Dears, it will find its way down. They always do."

"No Esme," insisted Millie. "It is meowing like mad and it looks thin, like it may have been up there a while or is sick."

My sister had become a bleeding heart when it came to animals.

"So why didn't you two climb up there and get the cat down?"

"We tried, but the branches are too far apart but someone taller could do it," Will added as he looked at me with a pleading smile. I looked over at Millie who was giving me the same look.

"Oh alright," I said standing up, brushing some of the sawdust off my clothes, "but whatever you do, don't tell mother. She would think it improper for a girl my age to climb trees." My mind raced back to the argument this morning when I tried to go to the shed in pants and mother told me I was too old now to be running around the farm like a tomboy and I needed to change immediately.

I followed the two of them out of the barn and out onto our property, moving quickly to keep up with their eager steps. We walked for what must have been nearly a mile in the hot sun before ducking into a small patch of woods. As we got closer, I could hear the poor creature.

"We're almost there Esme!" Will announced excitedly.

"I know, I can hear it."

They stopped in front of a tree that must have been at least 60 feet high to the top but the stupid cat luckily was only about half way up the tree. There were many branches, even and low, some thicker than others, stacked from nearly floor to heaven. I sighed and asked, "You couldn't climb that?"

They both shook their heads in unison no.

I looked for a good place to start. I wiped me hands once more and started my ascend. I had been a master climber in my day, running into these same woods to hide on the limbs of a tree with a book and the sun shining through to read my stories. It had been some time since I climbed a tree. That time in my parents' mind was three years ago but in mine it was only one.

As I reached the branch right below the cat, I called to it, trying to make it come to me but the animal didn't move. It just stared at me with wide eyes. I moved closer to it and reached for it, grabbing it and tucking it under my arm. It must have been up here for a while because it didn't struggle.

"Did you get her?" Millie yelled up.

"Yes, I'm coming down!" I called back as I gave the cat a quick pat on the head.

I started to climb down but two things went wrong at the same time. As I went to step down, using just one hand to steady myself, I felt my foot missing the limb below as the cat decided to struggle and suddenly there was no branch in my hand and no branches under my feet. I was falling through the air to the ground.

I heard Millie and Will cry out as the air rushed past me. I felt leaves and branches slap me and finally with a sickening crack and surge of pain that made me lose the ability to breath and instantly brought tears to my eyes, I hit the ground.

It took me a moment to get my wits about me. I looked down toward my legs to find the right one bleeding and my left leg, the source of the cracking sound, in an unnatural position.

"Go get help." I whispered through the pain and shock at my siblings but they didn't move. They stood frozen and red faced. "Millie! Will!" I yelled, finding my voice, "Go get father!"

They both took off like a shot. I laying back on the ground, looking up at the branches that broke my fall realizing I was up very high. The cat was long gone. All I could do was lay there in pain and wait.

* * *

If I was a horse I would have been shot by now. Put out of my misery!

My raging Father and Jim, one of our farmhands, had come to me with Will and Millie and carried me back and put me in the bed of a wagon and drove me out to Doctor Warner's home. Unfortunately, Doctor Warner was out of town so with an obvious broken leg and my father knowing better than to wait for the good doctor to return, made his way toward Columbus.

It was nearly nightfall now, as I laid in the back staring up at the sky. My worried mother had run out long enough to bandage the cut on my right leg, make sure there was some straw in the bed, and give me a pillow and blanket.

We rolled to a stop and Jim said, "We're at the hospital Miss Esme. These doctors will get you fixed up in a jiffy."

As my father got down off the bench I could see in the dull streetlamp light that his concern was how much it was going to cost to get me fixed up in a "jiffy."

"Come on Esme," my father said as the helped me awkwardly out of the bed and cradle carried me into the small hospital.

A young nurse, who looked not much older than me, came forward immediately inquiring what the problem was. My father spoke, since by that point I was lightheaded. She escorted us down the hall past several doors and to a small private exam room. She noted to my father that they didn't see many women patients here and that most of their patients were men who came from the nearby factories. This gave my father another reason to give me a stern look as he and Jim placed me down on the examination table.

At that moment an older severe looking nurse with an air of authority came into the room, writing on a chart, as she inquired of my name and what happened. The younger nurse stood at attention by the wall watching her while my father told the story of the foolish girl's fall from the tree. I stared up at the ceiling at a crack in the plaster. When she was satisfied with the information, she asked my father and Jim to step out to the waiting area and informed them that the doctor would be in soon.

"Doctor Johnson will be in to see you soon," the young nurse assured me in a kind tone as she moved to take the chart from the older nurse.

"No, Nurse Miller," the older nurse corrected as she handed over the chart. "Doctor Johnson just finished surgery and is heading home. Doctor Cullen just came on." I heard a clatter as Nurse Miller dropped my chart and looked flushed and embarrassed. The older nurse gave her a stern look. She addressed me now, "Miss Platt, he will be in shortly."

The older nurse followed the flustered Nurse Miller out the door. I lay there waiting, pain still searing through my leg, trying to distract myself by wondering what about Doctor Cullen flustered Nurse Miller so much. He was probably an old bear of a doctor, surly and intimidating and would probably cause me more pain examining before I started on the road to recovery.

Before I could let my imagination run any wilder, I heard the muffled sound of the older nurse and a man's voice approaching from down the hall. There was a knock on the door and the older nurse opened it and looked in at me and nodded. I held my breath for a moment waiting for the bear but instead in walked a God.

I momentarily forgot all pain as the most beautiful man I had ever seen walked through the door. He looked young for a doctor. His skin was smooth and pale, his hair light blond, his features chiseled like a Greek statue in my history book. He looked slightly tired for someone who just came on duty. His smile was warm but his face was that of a professional as he glanced down at the chart. "Miss Platt?"

I felt my heart race at the sound of his voice saying my name. It was like music.

"Yes," I said at barely a whisper, a tinge of pain reminding me why I was here.

"I'm Doctor Cullen. I understand you had a fall and injured your leg," he said coming to the foot of the table and looking me straight in the eyes. His eyes were a color I had never seen. They were the color of butterscotch candy, much lighter brown than I had ever seen on any person. I was lost for a second before I nodded yes in agreement.

"I need to examine your leg Miss Platt. I apologize but we need to move your skirt up. Nurse Adams is going to assist me."

I was sure my face was red from the sun and from crying but I also was sure it somehow turned another shade brighter. I nodded my head as Nurse Adams came around my right side and Doctor Cullen was on the left. I noticed for the first time that Nurse Miller was standing against the wall observing wide eyed. She must be new.

The doctor and the nurse looked at each other and with a nod, began to my embarrassment, rolling up my skirt, careful not to move my legs too much. The nurse removed my shoes and stockings. I looked down at my now bruised and swollen left leg and again felt the pain and lightheaded at the awkward bend in it. The doctor looked at my face. "Breathe Miss Platt." I let out the air I had not realized I had been holding in. He looked down at my leg and shook his head. "You have quite a break. I am going to feel for any other breaks. I am going to start at your foot and go up from there. Alright?"

I nodded my head yes. I shivered as his fingers touched my foot. They were ice cold, much colder than I thought anything could be in this hot weather. If he noticed my response he did not acknowledge it. His hands moved swiftly, feeling for any more breaks or sprains. As he neared the obvious, I felt a little cry escape from my mouth and the tears well up again. "I know that hurts," he said, sympathy and an apology in his tone, "I am sorry. I'll be done soon."

His hands continued up further and it took all my concentration to keep from shaking and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"Doctor Cullen," said Nurse Adams, calling attention to herself. I had forgotten she was there. With Doctor Cullen's hands on my left leg, I had failed to notice Nurse Adams, removing the bandage and examining the cut on my right leg.

I was surprised to see it was still bleeding. It must have been worse than I though. "Please keep pressure on it Nurse Adams," Doctor Cullen said as he looked over and away quickly. "It looks like you will need some stitches in addition to a cast Miss Platt," he said as he stepped away, seemingly finished with his examination, at least on my left side. "Does anything else hurt? Did you hit your head or land on your back or wrists?"

"No," I thought for a moment, quickly completing an inventory of sensations on my upper half, "I don't think so."

"I'm going to check your head just to make sure there are no bumps. Can you sit up for me for a moment please," he said reaching out his hands to mine. I took them and let him pull me to sitting position. Disembodied, I saw his hands reaching for my head as he leaned toward me. As he moved closer, I couldn't help but breathe in his scent. Not only did he look perfect but he smelled magnificent too. He felt around my head, had me follow his finger with my eyes, and checked my shoulders, my back and my arms.

Satisfied, he addressed Nurse Adams now, rambling off things that he needed. I did not know what everything was but I caught on enough to know it was what he needed to stitch me up and cast my leg. "Yes, doctor," said Nurse Adams as she exited taking Nurse Miller with her.

He turned back to me walking around the table. "You can lay back again Miss Platt. I am just going to check your other leg to make sure there are no additional injuries." Again, his still cold hands started at my feet and worked his way up. As he finished Nurse Miller came back in carrying a tray. She placed it on a small table and stepped back. "Thank you, Nurse Miller. Please do your rounds."

I was alone again with the stunning doctor as he removed the bandage from my leg to examine the cut. "So what were you doing in a tree Miss Platt?" he suddenly asked.

I was surprised, suddenly distracted from watching his hands working in my leg. "Getting a cat out of a tree."

He chuckled as he continued to work, "And I'm guessing that you are not a very experienced tree climber?"

"No, Doctor, just the opposite," he glanced up at my face and I thought for a moment I would be tongue tied but I continued, "My younger brother and sister came to me to help get the cat out of the tree. I was a little out of practice but I've never fell from a tree in my entire life."

I could feel that he had started stitching up the cut, "So what happened today?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. One moment I was climbing down and the next moment I was falling."

"And how did the cat fair with this tumble from what I am guessing was quite a ways up?"

I couldn't help but laugh as I said, "Oh she scampered off like a firecracker, once I was painfully on the ground."

"No thanks at all then?"

"Nope. I'm sure she is sleeping her adventure off, while I'm suffering for it."

The doctor chuckled a musical laugh, "They say cats have nine lives."

"I will try to remember that the next time there's a cat in a tree. If the cat falls chances are it has another life to live. If I fall, well I only have one chance to live this life so I better make it count by not climbing after cats."

His hands stopped as he turned toward my face with the most peculiar look in his eyes. It was a moment before he spoke, "That is a very philosophical statement for such a young woman Miss Platt but also quite true. You should make every moment of your life count."

He went back to finishing up the stitch and I was at a loss for words so I mumbled something in agreement or thanks.

"There you go," he said as he finished off the stitches. "You will have to get the stitches removed in a few weeks," he noted to me as he washed off his hands. "I will write everything down for you. I do not mean to insult you but can you read Miss Platt?"

It was more turn to laugh. "Oh yes, quiet well."

He looked at me with an amused expression but at that moment, Nurse Adams reappeared with a cart filled with everything they needed to immobilize me for some time.

Doctor Cullen came around to my left side again and looked closely at the injured area again and then up at my face with those glorious eyes, "Miss Platt, I am going to set this and I apologize but you will feel a sharp pain for a moment. After a few moments though, it should feel better than it does now."

I nodded my head and tried to will myself to look away from what he was about to do. His hands touched my leg again, and he looked up at my face once more, "Be brave dear," he said quietly and then lightening fast his hands moved, I could not help but yell as once again the tears fell from my eyes. It was over and his eyes were back to mine with concern. "Are you alright?" I could not stop the tiny sob that escaped from my chest as I shook my head no. At the same time, I could feel the pain easing as he had said it would. I tried to wipe my eyes with the handkerchief that I had been using since we left the farm but it was a mess. "Here, take this," Doctor Cullen said handing me his. I hesitated, "I have not used it Miss Platt. Please take it."

"Thank you," I choked out as I took it, his cool fingers grazing mine.

"You're welcome," he said as he began rolling up his sleeves. "Now here is the part where we make sure you are physically unable to climb a tree again while the bone heals."

He began working again, this time though it was warm and wet as he began to entomb my injured leg in the wrappings that when dried would be hard cast.

"So why the laughter when I asked about reading?" he asked as he worked, bringing me back to the conversation he had started a little while ago.

I was surprised that he was so friendly but then I thought, he is probably just trying to distract me from the pain or make me less nervous and in some cases it was working. "I am actually enrolled in secondary school, doctor. I am a straight A student and always have been."

"That is wonderful Miss Platt. You do not often hear of many women who are so successful when it comes to education. Your parents must be very proud."

I thought for a moment on how they really felt and for an even briefer moment thought about telling the good doctor the truth but I should not have boosted about my grades and my mother would expect better of me, "Yes they are. I am very lucky that they have let me continue my education beyond an elementary education."

"Unfortunately, I do not think this will be mended in time for you to start class again in September."

The consequences of that statement hit me hard and what felt like a million scenarios played themselves out in my head but I tried to hover on the optimistic ones. I would heal quickly or I would be able to make up the work.

"Things have a way of working themselves out, right doctor?"

He looked at me quizzically but nodded his head in agreement, "Of course they do."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, barely looking up from his work, "That is a pretty locket you are wearing Miss Platt, does it have special meaning to you?"

My hand flew to my chest. I realized then that my top button was still undone and the locket I usually kept tucked away under my clothes had fallen out when I fell. I was surprised that he noticed let alone asked about it. "It was a gift from my grandmother, my namesake, Esme Anne Barstow," I said with a certain amount of pride.

"Your mother's mother?"

"Yes."

"Does she live with your family?"

"Not anymore doctor. She left this world four years ago."

"I am sorry to hear that."

I smiled sadly, opening the locket to glance at her picture, "So am I. She was my favorite person in the world. I miss her every day." I looked up from the picture to find the doctor watching me. I silently turned the locket so he could see her.

"You look like her."

"That is what everyone always said; that I looked more like her than my own mother and it was fitting that I was named for her."

"It would seem to be the case," he said as he looked down at his work again.

Before I knew it he was finishing up and he addressed me, "Now Miss Platt, this is going to take a while to harden and dry. I am going to out and speak with your father and update him. I will be back to check on your shortly."

A moment later he was gone and I surprisingly felt my heart drop. Nurse Adams was cleaning up but there wasn't much of a mess and she too was soon gone. I lay there alone again now not imagining what the bear doctor looked like but envisioning the God doctor's face.

A little while later, Doctor Cullen stepped back into the room and came to my side, checking the cast. "The one good thing about this heat Miss Platt is that it is baking this cast rather quickly. I recommended to your father that you spend some time in the hospital so we can assure you are immobilized and monitor you but he wants to get you home as soon as possible. Once this is completely dry in a few hours, I will be able to release you."

Looking into his eyes the entire time, I was thinking I did not want to be released but I knew my parents could not afford a lengthy hospital stay. Without me being able to get around, they were also now down one farmhand, me, for the rest of the summer.

"Thank you Doctor Cullen. I will be fine at home," I smiled, using all my might to not let him see my disappointment.

He smiled back with a dazzling set of teeth, "You are very welcome Miss Platt. I have rounds but I will check back in with you later." He nodded with a gentlemanly air as he disappeared out the door.

My mind wandered between thoughts of school, the possible end of my education, how my family would react, what would have happened to the cat or my siblings if I had just left the darn thing in the tree and through all that, my mind kept returning to thoughts of the doctor.

It was late or more appropriately, early, when Doctor Cullen and Nurse Miller came back into the room. "How are you feeling Miss Platt?" he asked.

"Tired and sore." I groaned with a chuckle.

He was looking over and feeling the cast, "You are going to feel that way for several days at least but the good news is this cast is dry and you my dear can go home."

Nurse Miller left the room briefly and came back with a wheelchair as Doctor Cullen wrote on the chart and rambled off instructions to me about care and crutches. I was just trying to memorize every aspect of his face.

"Alright Miss Platt, it is time," he said as he held his hands out to me once more. I slid forward, now feeling the weight on my leg as it went over the side of the table. Between him and Nurse Miller they managed to move me rather quickly into the wheelchair and with no further injury.

Luckily, he handed me a piece of paper with instructions written out because I barely retained a word he had said before.

As he pushed me out the door, I saw Nurse Adams rushing toward the doctor and he stopped. She whispered something in his ear and I looked back and up to see him nod with concern and murmur in agreement and add that he would be there in a moment.

"Miss Platt," he said cheerfully as he came around the front of my chair to face me. "I am afraid I must leave you but I wish you the best of luck for a speedy recovery and remind you to stay out of trees."

"Thank you for everything Doctor Cullen." I smiled taking in his face once more, one last time.

"Good evening Miss Platt," he said and turned heading down the hall in the same direction as Nurse Adams in the dim light. I watched him go, his smooth stride and white coat almost ghostly until he turned into one of the doors I passed earlier and was gone forever.

As Nurse Miller rolled me into the waiting area, I saw my father, still looking surly and Jim, barely awake. The nurse gave my father some instructions and noted the piece of paper in my hand with them all written out. He took it from me and folded it and put it in his pocket. He thanked the nurse and asked her to share his gratitude with Doctor Cullen.

Before long I was back in the wagon, jostling away from the lights of Columbus with the dim light of twilight starting to glow the sky. I lay back staring again at the sky, finally feeling the wave of exhaustion hitting me that had been building for hours. As I dozed off I found my mind focusing on Doctor Cullen, his kindness, his voice, his face….

That was the first night I dreamed of Doctor Cullen.


	6. February 1914

_Chapter 6 - February 1914_

Two and a half years later…

February 1, 1914

My Dearest Esme,

How I miss you! It seems like forever since I have seen you. I hope you are staying warm and healthy out in that desolate wasteland.

I do not know if you heard but Grace and Andrew welcomed their second child, Edith Mary, on January 15. Big brother, Fred seems very amused by her.

George and Louise write that George Jr. is doing very well in school under your tutelage. I said I am not surprised. I would never have gotten through our first year of school together without your help. I am sure your students could not find a better teacher anywhere in Ohio.

It has been strange to not be in school this year. Some mornings I wake up thinking I forgot to do my homework. I know it is silly but it happens. My mind has been a little distracted and preoccupied of late though and that is the main reason I wanted to write you dear cousin.

I declare to you I am in love. His name is Thomas Cooper and he works in the office at my father's factory. He is handsome, kind and educated. Father says he is a man of good prospects and you know what a fine judge of character my father is. I feel that he returns my affection. Oh Esme, I cannot wait for you to meet him! Please tell me you will come to Columbus when you have your break. I am sure George would bring you in to town. I long to see you.

Although our time living together as "sisters" was too short and ended abruptly, and although I have a dear sister who I love, you are my dearest friend Esme and I miss you.

I have enclosed some books to keep you company in your isolation. I hope you enjoy them. I tried to create a bit of variety for you. I will look forward to discussing the stories with you when we meet.

Love,

Helen Platt

I smiled as I finished the letter. I was truly happy for my dear second cousin to have found love. During my time living with and attending school with her, we became extremely close. She was so much younger than her siblings coming along four years after her sister Grace and I was so much older than my own with Millie six years younger. Our ages brought us together but our hearts had bonded us. The two years living with her and her family were some of my happiest memories.

I would send a note to George with George Junior tomorrow to inquiry when he was heading into Columbus, but I doubted it would be until the weather turned warmer. The roads were too treacherous now for him to make the journey.

I removed the books for my collection from the box to see what my newest treasures were. There were three this time. The first was Sense and Sensibility, the only Jane Austen story missing from my collection and I was sure it would be the first one I would read. The second was Bram Stoker's Dracula, a horror novel. The last time she had sent me the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and the time before that Frankenstein. I laughed thinking she was trying to give me nightmares out here alone but I was sure that for all the chills it ran down my spine, I would read it cover to cover. The last was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I had read Wuthering Heights, written by the author's sister and though familiar with the story had never dove into the tale of the orphan who would become governess.

Although I was delighted with all the books, I put Sense and Sensibility down on the chair and walked over to my small bookcase to put away the other two for now. I looked over my collection of literature, most of it a gift from Helen, with pride and squeezed the two books in on the top shelf.

As I walked back to my chair I could see out the window that the light snow had stopped and the night was clear. I stopped to see the lights of George's family's home across the fields. The only reason my parents agreed to let me take this post was because of the school's proximity to family.

The chill sent an ache through my leg reminding me how I ended up here. When I broke my leg two summers ago, it abruptly ended my academic career as a student. I couldn't return to class in September because of my injury. By the time the cast was removed in late October, I had missed too much of the year to catch up and my father felt that it was a sign that I had enough schooling.

For the next few months I helped out on the farm during the day while at night I devoured the books, both academic and literature, that Helen would send me from town. When the weather warmed, I convinced my father to let me attend a teachers institute. He thought it was a waste since it would be too late to find a job for the next year by the time I was done the six-week program. I passed the examination to become a teacher with flying colors and to my parents' surprise, I soon got a letter from George letting me know that the local teacher was getting married and they needed to find a replacement immediately or school would not be able to start in the fall.

They did not want me to go but with George's assurance that he and Louise would watch out for me and that they could see the teacher's small quarters, now my home, from their front porch, they begrudgingly agreed to let me go.

I sat down opened the second letter with my sister's handwriting on the envelope. I found three letters in the envelope.

Dear Esme,

Millie was writing you so I wanted to put a note in too. I am doing well in school but I wish you were my teacher instead of Miss Keller. Miss Keller lashed me for talking to Billy and I know you would not lash me. I still have less lashes then Millie. I miss you and hope you come home to visit soon.

Your brother,

Will

Dear Esme,

I wish you would come home so I would not have to listen to mother and father complain about you being gone and alone. They want you to be happy. They want you to find a husband and start a family. I can't say I blame them for I want that for you too. You do not need to be a teacher. I am sure there are plenty of boys out there who would marry you. You are pretty and smart, but don't be too smart with them. Boys don't like that.

Miss Mills says my studies have improved greatly and my grades reflect it. I wish I could go to school in Columbus in a few years like you did but father still says I am not smart enough and look what it did to you. I tried to argue that you attending school had nothing to do with breaking your leg and he did not want to hear it.

I hope you are well sister.

Love,

Millie

Dear Esme,

I hope you are staying warm and healthy during this cold weather and that George and Louise are taking you to church and making sure you get a good meal on Sundays. I still cannot understand why you wanted so badly to teach in a one-room schoolhouse, fifty miles from civilization and thirty-five from your family.

Your schoolmates Rachel Mead and Joseph Williams have announced that they are getting married. There goes another one. Esme, I am concerned about you now as I was when you took that position. How are you going to meet a husband out there? You know your father and I want nothing but your happiness and for you to start a family. Your friends all seems to be getting engaged and you are too pretty to be the last one without a husband.

I hope being alone in that place for a second year has made you see how much better off you would be at home. James Collin said he would be happy to hire you at his store if working is your concern. You know his son, Adam, is not married yet and only a year younger than you. Being the wife of a store owner would not be a bad thing.

You cannot do this teaching thing forever Esme. We expected you to be ready to move on to the next phase of your life, marriage, after one year in the classroom but that was not the case. You need to start thinking about your future. There are plenty of eligible young men still around and I expect you to start thinking about who you want to grow an attachment with when you return here this summer.

Take care of yourself Esme and please let me know of you need anything. You may be living on your own but I am still your mother.

Love,

Mother

I sighed as I put down the letter. I knew the nagging to get married would continue until I walked down the aisle. It wasn't that I didn't want to get married. I wanted to find love and start a family but I wanted this experience too. I longed to teach since I was small and wanted to experience this before I settled down because once I married chances were my teaching career would come to an end.

For my mother's sake I tried to think of the eligible young men back home. None were particularly objectionable but my heart did not flutter when I thought of any of them. There had been boys that could have been potential beaus at school in Columbus, boys who kept Helen and me up at night chattering about them, but I had lost contact or opportunity with them when I did not return.

And of course there were the fictional and unattainable. The characters in the novels that made my heart ache like Mr. Darcy, Percy Blakeney, Odysseus, Mr. Knightley, Pericles and the many princes who rescued the princess when I was a child. And then there was one who was so real but never meant to be. I took the handkerchief out of my pocket rubbing my finger over the initials, C.C., sewn delicately on the corner. My mind moved on to the familiar game of guess the first name. Charles, Carl, Christopher, Clarence, Cecil, Clyde, Chester or Clifford Cullen?

I sighed as I looked at the front cover of Sense and Sensibility on my lap. Suddenly the romantic appeal and reality of Jane Austen didn't seem so appealing. I walked back over to the book shelf and switched the book out and sat back down. As I cracked open the novel and started reading Jonathan Harker's journal entry, I thought this will certainly be an escape from reality.


	7. June 1915

_Chapter 7 – June 1915_

I took off my hat for a moment and was enjoying the sun as I sat on the box next to George. The weather was perfect and would hopefully stay that way for the next few days. I was relaxed for the moment.

School was over for the year. Graduation had been three days ago. I loved my students dearly but the beautiful weather had made it hard even for me to stay inside while my students finished up their examinations.

Instead of heading straight back to the farm as was the usual tradition, I was heading to Columbus for a most joyous occasion, the wedding of Helen Platt and Thomas Cooper.

"Esme, you better put that hat back on or you are going to be a bright red bridesmaid," called Louise from the back.

"It is just for a minute. My head is sweating under it," I called back.

"She is right you know Esme," said George. "I don't think my baby sister would appreciate you looking like that."

"Fine," I said, jamming the wide brimmed hat back on my head to protect my face. George chuckled next me.

"Although it is not going to be a huge wedding, there may be a good catch there for you Esme and bright red is not that attractive," George winked at me.

I groaned, "Oh George, not you too," pulling the hat down more.

"Well Esme, you are 20 year old now. You should be settling down. You don't want to end up an old maid."

I laughed, "Twenty is hardly an old maid, George. And I have my eyes open. When the right man comes along, I will only too happily march down the aisle, even if I do it just to quiet everyone in our family."

I looked over at George smirking next me, "You are going to make some man very happy Esme."

I smiled and made sure I was covered and sunburned free all the way to Columbus.

* * *

We were giggling like school girls as Helen and I remembered our school days.

"You were the one who liked Peter Rathbone!" accused Helen as she pointed her finger at me.

"And so what if I did? He liked me too," I chuckled as her eyes grew wide.

"He did?" she asked amazed that one of the catches of our school was interested in me.

"Yes he did. Don't look so surprised Helen." I leaned over and whispered in her ear. "He was my first kiss."

"ESME PLATT!" she squealed. "You never even told me you had your first kiss let alone with Peter Rathbone!"

"I didn't tell you at the time because you were head over heels over Robert Lutz at the time and he was not returning your affections."

"That was probably the right choice. I would have been insanely jealous."

I laughed, "I know!" We both broke into peals of laughter and when we were done. We were just shaking our heads at each other.

"I can't believe you are getting married tomorrow Helen."

Helen looked at me with amazement on her face, "I know. I can't believe this day has finally arrived," she paused for a moment and the look in her eyes changed to one of absolutely happiness, "And I love him Esme. Thomas is more than I could ever have hoped for. I know I'm going to have a long and happy life with him."

I felt the tears brimming in my eyes but held them back as I squeezed her hand. "I am so happy for you."

"Thank you Esme and thank you for being a part of my day. I couldn't imagine this day without my "sister."

I leaned over and hugged her. I was staying with her this evening so she wasn't alone and because we had to get up early to get prepared for the wedding day.

"Are you at all nervous?" I asked.

"About marrying Thomas? No, not at all. I don't have one doubt about him. The wedding night, well that has me a little more concerned but my mother said let him take the lead and since it is an act of love it will be wonderful."

I could feel my face turning as red as if I had gotten that sunburn. I whispered. "I meant getting married." I chuckled nervously, "but thank you for sharing the other part."

It was Helen's turn to hug me, "Oh Esme, I want you to be as happy as me! We will find you a man soon enough!"

"Helen! I am so tired of everyone telling me that they are going to find me a man! I'm fine just the way I am. I love teaching. I love my students. I don't feel ready to give that up yet," I said slightly exasperated.

Helen looked at me calmly with eyes I had never seen from her. "Darling, I love you but you need to grow up. "

"What are you talking about?" I asked in surprise but she put her hand up to silence me.

"Esme you are only seeing happiness in what you have now. Love in what you have now. That is all fine and good for now. You haven't felt what I am feeling now." I was confused and I was sure it showed on my face as she continued. "When you meet him and he woos you and he asks you to be his wife, the love of your students and teaching won't matter anymore. Open your heart and you may be amazed what you will find."

I was struck by my dear Helen's words. She humbled me with her authority, no longer the girl I giggled with but the woman who was going to be Mrs. Cooper by this time tomorrow. I could only nod my head in agreement and whisper, "I'll try."

She hugged me again and was suddenly back to the girl I knew with a giggle, "We should get some sleep if we can. I have a big day tomorrow!"

As she turned off the light, I thought of the vow I just made to her," I'll try."

* * *

"Give me the baby!" I begged as I rushed toward Grace, my arms outstretched.

She looked surprised and laughed as she handed over Edith from her hip. "Whatever is the matter Esme?"

I looked down at the smiling little girl who grabbed onto my pink dress with one hand and yanked a curl with the other, while watching my face with that smile. "I need a shield," I said through gritted teeth.

"What for?"

"For the constant barrage of apparently every single man here who my mother is pointing in my direction." Grace couldn't help but chuckle loudly and in another time and place, I may have found it comical myself. "I think I have danced nearly every dance. My feet hurt. Every time I step off the floor another potential suitor is waiting for me with my mother's eyes following."

"And has anyone caught your eye?"

I looked at her and said dryly, "If they had, do you think I would be dancing with Edith right now?" I swayed with the little girl, making faces at her and she made faces back and laughed.

"Well your sister doesn't seem to mind the attention."

I looked over at Millie, sitting at a table across the way with several boys gathered around her hanging on her every word. In some ways my little sister looked so grown up in her fine dress, her dark curls partial pulled up and the round baby face seems to have melted away since last summer but her overly dramatic movements and laughter gave away her youth.

I chuckled and sighed, "Millie is boy crazy and always has been. I am surprised my mother or father isn't over there breaking up her party but then again they are too busy trying to get me to do what she shouldn't be doing."

"Boy crazy? At fourteen? She is a complete opposite of you." We looked at each other and shrugged. Grace changed the subject for the moment as she looked out toward the crowd again, "It was nice that Edwin Platt made the long journey out here for this happy day."

"Yes it was. I was surprised to see him. It has been so long since we have seen any family from the east."

My father and Michael were born in New England, in Massachusetts. Michael decided to move his young family of Sarah and the two boys out west and my father agreed to go along. Neither was the oldest son in their family, and knew they would not inherit the successful farms that their families owned. They planned to go to California but they never made it further than Columbus, Ohio.

The buggy factories were booming when they stopped in Columbus in 1891. There were signs everywhere screaming that companies were hiring and even offering bonuses for accepting a job. They thought they would take jobs, earn good money for a few months and then continue heading west but God had different plans for them. For Michael, he started taking some classes at night while his family grew with the birth of Grace. For my father it was my mother. Before they knew it, Michael with his hard work and growing education, eventually earning a college degree, was promoted to floor supervisor and eventually was made a manager in the company. My father enjoyed the hard work of carving the details on buggies for rich men but wanted to run his own life. After two years of working and saving nearly every penny, he secured financing for a piece of land outside of Columbus to start a farm and with a farmer's daughter accepting his proposal, he would also start a family.

They never looked back and they never looked west again. On rare occasions, family from back Massachusetts would come visit but those visits were years apart. For all intensive purposes, our family and Michael's were the only family we had. Edwin Platt was the oldest surviving Platt family member and my great uncle.

"Maybe he realized that at his age, this may be his last opportunity to see the Ohio clan," Grace said.

"Grace! Don't talk like that! Let us pray that Uncle Edwin has many more years ahead of him."

"Of course I pray the man has many years ahead of him. He actually seems to be in pretty good health for his age…" she trailed off as something else caught her eye and she chuckled. "I think your father found another dance partner for you."

My eyes darted in the direction she was looking and saw my father laughing with an equally jovial man that looked to be his about his age. Next to the stranger stood a slight woman, probably the man's wife, and on the other side of him stood the object of Grace's attention. He was tall and handsome with a slight wave in his brown hair. He looked to be about my age. His suit was impeccable and he stood tall with an air of confidence but also completely at ease. I was struck for a moment but then realized that he was turning to look at me as my father gestured in my direction. I looked away at Grace but she continued to watch.

"Alright Esme, they are coming," she said reaching out for Edith but I was holding on to her like a lifeline. She frowned at me as I didn't respond to her. "Esme, you look perfect with a child in your arms but you need to give my daughter back to me."

I sighed, kissed Edith's soft cheek and handed her back, "Bye sweetheart."

"Cheer up dear," Grace said as she winked at me, "Even as a married women, I will admit that he is a fine looking man and would not be a bad dance partner."

"Esme!" I heard my father call out as he approached.

I turned and smiled at him, "Yes father?"

"Esme, dear," he said as he reached me and kissed my cheek. I suspected that he had a few alcoholic drinks this afternoon. "I want you to meet an old friend of mine and his family." He nodded at Grace and announced to his friends, "This is Michael's oldest daughter, Grace Smith and her daughter, Edith and this is my oldest daughter, my pride and joy, Esme." I was caught off guard by my father's lofty introduction but smiled and nodded at the older man as my father continued, "This is Jonathan Evenson, his wife Mary, and his son, Charles."

"It is lovely to meet you, Miss Esme," said Jonathan in a charming tone as he shook my hand. "Your father was telling us that you just finished up a teaching for the school year."

"Yes," wondering how much my father did say for he was usually a man of few words. "I just finished up this past week." I looked to my father, "How do you know each other?"

My father laughed, "I owe the farm to Jonathan, literally." I looked at him with confusion and he continued, "Jonathan's family owns Columbus Savings and Trust and he worked magic to help me secure a loan to buy our farm when I was a young man. I owe him a great debt of gratitude to this day. Of course he earned a customer for life and Michael personally and now also his company banks exclusively with Jonathan's Columbus Savings and Trust."

Jonathan chuckled, "I knew you would be a good investment."

Both men laughed and I glanced over at Mary, who remained quiet and stoic the whole time. She barely looked up. I studied her for a moment more wondering if maybe she wasn't feeling well and then turn my eyes to Charles, surprised to find him looking right at me with deep brown eyes. I politely smiled and nodded. He must have taken that as an invitation.

"Mr. Platt," Charles spoke, his voice smooth and polite, "Would you mind if I asked your daughter for a dance?"

I looked at him and then at Grace in surprise. I felt her hand push my back. The two older men glanced between them quickly and then my father smiled at him, "Of course Charles, if it is alright with Esme."

With all eyes on me with the exception of Mrs. Evenson, I swallowed and smiled and behaved as I should, "I would be delighted, Mr. Evenson."

He held out a hand and I took it as he led me to the dance floor and swept me into the waltz with surprising control and grace. I looked up at him to find him smiling down at me. "I had heard much of your beauty Miss Platt but every word did you an injustice."

"We have not spoken more than one sentence to each sir, what do you know of my beauty?"

He chuckled as he lead me around the floor, "Well on the outside you are stunning but I'm sure what is behind those eyes is even more spectacular."

I was shocked but tried not to show it, "You are very bold Mr. Evenson."

"Please, call me Charles."

"No I will not Mr. Evenson."

He smiled, "You will someday."

I almost ran off the dance floor there and then but something in his ridiculous confidence held me in place and I found I wanted to learn more, "Are you a banker then sir?"

"I will be. I am a student at the moment. I am studying finance at the university."

"Which one?" my interest now peaked.

"Ohio State of course."

"Is it wonderful?" I sighed.

I finally had him looking surprised, "Wonderful?"

"I would have given anything to go to university but circumstances rendered that impossible. That is why I teach instead."

"In Columbus?"

"No. Do you know George Platt?" He nodded yes. "I teach in a one-room schoolhouse near his farm."

"That is far." He frowned as his voice trailed off.

"Yes it is nearly thirty-five miles from my family."

"You misunderstood me Miss Platt."

I looked at his eyes, confused by what I supposedly misunderstood. He was looking at me intently. "You are too far away from Columbus….and from me."

I burst out laughing at his seriousness, "Mr. Evenson! We are having a dance, a single dance. What do you think I am to you?"

"Ah but you are wrong there, the music has changed and this is our second dance."

I listened for a moment and realized he was right and shrugged, "Fine. Two dances."

"The first two of many," he smiled and looked at me expectantly.

I shook my head confused again, "Who are you Mr. Evenson?"

"See now that is what I wanted you to ask," he said. "I will be happy to teach you about who I am but you must do the same in return Miss Platt."

"There isn't that much to tell."

"Oh I highly doubt that Miss Platt," I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "For a woman as beautiful as you to not be married at twenty," I blushed as I heard him say my age. Had my father been that forthcoming? "And who wishes she could have went to university, who left her family to teach in the wilderness, you must have more ambition than most ladies and that fascinates me."

My face must have been crimson. I was at a loss for words. I looked down as we continued to dance in silence. As the music came to an end, I felt his fingers touch my chin, tilting it up to look in my eyes. "You do not have to say anything Miss Platt. Just give me a nod, yes or a shake, no. May I call on you some time so I can learn more about your ambitions?"

My head was screaming to shake my head no and walk away, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents, standing together, watching us with a look of hope on their faces. I swallowed as I nodded yes. Charles smiled and took my arm to escort me off the dance floor. As we were crossing I saw Helen, the beautiful beaming bride, staring at us.

"Thank you for the dance Mr. Evenson," I said pulling my arm free from his but he grabbed my hand to stop me from bolting away.

"Until next time then Miss Platt," he said bringing my hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine during the gesture. I smiled as he let go of my hand and turned, trying not to run to the bride.

I could see the laughter in Helen's eyes as I approached her. She was hiding something behind her back. I can't imagine what my face looked like but as I reached Helen her hand swung around and she tossed the bundle of flowers at me. My reflexes reacting, I caught the bouquet as it hit my chest.

She smiled at me, winked and said just one word, "Next."


	8. May 1916

_Chapter 8 – May 1916_

"What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise as I exited the church and found Charles Evenson leaning against a tree just beyond the entranceway.

He tipped his hat at me, "Well I woke up this morning and it was such a beautiful day that I thought I would take a ride out into the country and suddenly my automobile was sitting right in front of this church with a picnic basket in the back and I thought, maybe Miss Platt would favor me with a lunch date."

I laughed and rolled my eyes as he said all of this with innocent eyes. At that moment I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see George, with Louise and the boys standing close by, eying the situation. "Charles," he said with a nod and a certain amount of reservation in his tone. This was not the first time Charles had suddenly appeared and George didn't like it. As the man my parents had entrusted to watch over me, he was concerned about the inappropriate nature of Charles showing up unannounced.

"It is good to see you George and your beautiful family," Charles said rushing forward his hand outstretched. George took it politely. "I was wondering if I could take Miss Platt on a picnic on the gorgeous day to celebrate my recent graduation."

George looked at me, "It is up to you Esme."

I patted George's hand and smiled, "I'm fine George and," turning to Charles, "I would be happy to accompany you Mr. Evenson."

"Then it is settled," Charles said giving me his arm, nodding at Louise and the boys. He helped me up on to the seat of the Model T and we drove off leaving George, his family and everyone else watching the dirt fly up as we took off down the road.

* * *

"So what was the graduation ceremony like?" I asked eagerly, sitting on the blanket under a tree, enjoying a sandwich I was sure one of the Evenson's servants got up early to make.

"It was long and boring," Charles sighed lying on his back looking up at the sky. "I am just happy to be done and now I can start working."

I frowned, having often imagined what it would be like wearing a cap and gown and taking part in the pageantry of a university graduation. If it wasn't for my own students, I would have gone to Columbus to witness the ceremony of Ohio State University, Class of 1916. My silence made Charles partially sit up. Seeing the disappointment on my face, he changed his tone. "Esme, I am sorry to disappoint you. I am more excited about the accomplishment and moving forward with my career than a pageant."

I smiled, "Well that is understandable. When do you start working?"

He beamed at me, "I have two weeks off and I am sure I could take longer so I can come see you as often as I like for the next two weeks…or longer."

"Charles, although your schooling is done, my students are not done for another month. I cannot go gallivanting off with you so you might as well get to work."

He scowled and looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled with an idea, "I could stay with George and Louise for the next two weeks. I am sure they would put me up."

"I'm sure they would not!" I chuckled. He looked at me confused and I continued. "George hates that you keep showing up unannounced. He finds it very improper for me to be going off on my own with a male friend."

Charles cut me off, "Friend? Is that all I am to you Esme, a friend?"

I pondered my statement for a moment. Charles was a friend and a handsome one at that but as much as I cared for him and enjoyed his company over the last year, I did not feel that my feelings could possibly be love, at least not in the romantic sense - not in the sense that he wanted.

"You are a dear friend Charles and I am happy you have come into my life, but for now you are a friend."

Sadness now covered his usually cheerful face. "Esme, I would be lying if I didn't state that I am disappointed," he paused then regaining his smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "but I don't give up so easily. I will win you over Esme Platt."

I laughed, "You speak of me like I am some prize."

He gently placed his hand on my cheek, caressing it softly, his voice matching his touch, "Oh but you are Miss Platt, and I wish you would realize it. Someday, I will take you home as my treasure."

I blinked, my body frozen. I wasn't breathing. He looked into my eyes and began to lean in cuing me to come to my senses. I turned away, giggling, "Oh Charles, does that work on those Columbus girls?"

He sat up looking me at me with a slightly offended expression, "There are no other girls. If there were, do you think I would get up at the crack of dawn to drive 50 miles out here to see you?"

I looked down, humbled and embarrassed by my rudeness to him. We sat in silence for a moment and I could feel his eyes on me. "It's alright Esme. I'm not upset with you. We should probably get going though. It is getting late and your cousin is going to start worrying about you."

He took my hand, pulling me to my feet and together we silently packed up the picnic. As he once again helped me up onto the seat of the car he paused to look at me once again and said, "I meant what I said Esme, I will treasure you."

He walked around and got in and the car started ambling down the road. I glanced over at him, his eyes set on the road in front of him. I thought to myself, "could I love Charles Evenson?"


	9. December 1916

_Chapter 9 – December 1916 _

"Absolutely not Esme! I am putting my foot down once and for all," yelled my father.

"But father, I already live alone now, what is the difference if I just go a little farther away?" I argued.

"It is one thing to live a half mile from your cousin but it would not be respectable to live out in the true wilderness on your own Esme Anne Platt! You are not traveling across the country on your own to be a teacher."

"I already am a teacher," I said defending myself, "but it will be easy for them to fill my position here. They desperately need teachers out west and I could fulfill that need. It is my calling."

"Damn your calling!" my father screamed, his face nearly purple with outrage. "You willful child! No, I have had enough of your games. This has gone on for too long. You are not going anywhere!"

"I have already applied for a position for the fall," I said quietly.

"Well you will un-apply because you will be married by then."

"That is wishful thinking father," I stated bitterly, surprised at my own tone.

"No your father is right, Esme," my head snapped around at the sound of my mother's quiet voice. "You will be married by then."

"What are you talking about? I do not see anyone proposing."

"Tell her Robert," my mother insisted, looking at my father, my eyes flew to his furious face.

"Tell me what?" I flatly asked.

"Charles Evenson came to me asking permission to marry you," my father stated as a matter of fact. "And I agreed."

"Charles!" I cried out, "but I don't love him."

"Why not?" my father asked, his face in disbelief.

"Dear it is time," my mother interceded, "You are the only girl from your class that isn't married."

"And that should motivate me?"

"He is a good man Esme and he will provide for you and he adores you, what more can a girl ask for?"

I felt tears welling in the corner of my eyes, "But I don't love him."

"You like him well enough though don't you?"

I nodded and she continued, "Love will come with time."

"But what if it doesn't?" I whispered fearfully.

"Stop questioning everything Esme!" my mother seethed. "By the time I was your age I had you and had already lost two little ones. I want to see you married and blessed with children. My mother was little more than ten years older than I am now when she passed and I want to be able to spend time with my grandchildren before I go." If that wasn't enough to guilt me she added, "And there was nothing more that your grandmother wanted for you than to see you happily married. This continuing persistence against marriage is a dishonor to her memory."

I felt like I had been beaten up and that's when my father hit me from the other side, "And Millie is of age and I won't let your sister marry before you do. Don't ruin her life because of your selfishness."

"Stop being selfish Esme. It is time to move on with your life. We have indulged this teaching whim long enough and much longer than most parents would tolerate. It is time to be responsible and you could not have asked for a better catch than Charles Evenson."

I looked back and forth between my parents and resigned myself. They were right. Charles did love me and I was sure with time I would grow to love him. He was a good man and I enjoyed his company and I guess many women settled for less.

I took in a deep breath and looked at my parents, "When Charles asks me, I will accept."

My mother threw her arms around me crying for joy, praising the Lord, thanking him for me finally coming to my senses. My father patted my back and told me that I was finally being the good girl that he raised. Now all there was left to do was wait for Charles to arrive with his proposal, and I didn't know when that would be but my stomach churned with anticipation.

* * *

I did not have to wait long. Michael Platt had invited our family to Columbus to spend Christmas day with his family and my parents agreed hoping that a certain family friend would be part of the festivities. As I walked through the front door, I saw that their hopes had come true. I felt like I was being set up and I felt like everyone knew it.

Michael's entire family was present and I was thrilled to see my dearest Helen but the presence of the Evenson family could not be ignored. I was welcomed by everyone with enthusiasm and Helen looked like she was ready to burst out of her skin. Charles was unusually quiet as I reached him; he took my hand in his usual way though, kissing it gently, "Merry Christmas Esme."

"Merry Christmas Charles," I smiled and with little more than that we were swept up in the festivities of the holiday. The presents and the games were bountiful and gay and distracted me from what I knew was coming before the end of the night.

I was just starting to follow everyone into the dining room for supper when I felt a tug on my hand. I looked down at the hand holding mine, and followed the arm up to Charles face. "Stay back a moment, please Esme."

I nodded and he followed my cousins to the door and closed it as the last one exited. He turned back to me, taking my hand and leading me over to the sofa, sitting down beside me.

"Esme, I think you know by now why I wanted this moment alone with you." He looked at me intently and I swallowed as I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were meant for me and as we have spent more time together over the last year and a half, I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you. While I know you don't share quiet the same ardent love for me as I do for you, I hope that you can find me worthy of your affections and your heart." He removed something from his pocket and I knew what it was. "I will make you happy Esme and I will do everything I can in my power to win your love. I will take care of you and provide for you," as he fell to his knee, "and love you always." The light hit the diamond as he held it up for me to see. "Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me Esme Anne Platt."

I was stunned by the depth of his emotions. For all his joking and confidence, I never expected such a heartfelt proposal from Charles. He really did love me and I wished, no prayed, that I would feel the depth of his emotions some day. "Yes Charles," I said surprised to find my voice shaking with emotion, "I will marry you."

He beamed at me as he slid the ring on my finger and stood up, pulling me up with him into his arms and kissed me. It was not a light kiss but deep, passionate and surprising. My mind was reeling with the sensation as the only kiss Charles had ever given me had been on my hand. He pulled away, still holding me, looking me in the eyes, "You have made me so happy. Let's go tell our families."

Before I had a moment to think or speak, he was pulling me out into the hall and into the dining room. All eyes turned to us and without a word, Charles lifted my ringed hand in a display that felt like triumph. Cheers exploded from our families as people jumped out of their seats rushing toward us.

My mother was crying as she hugged me and then Charles. Helen and Millie were beaming with "sisterly" pride. I saw my father, Jonathan and even my dear Will shaking Charles hand. Suddenly Mary was at my side, placing her hand on my arm to get my attention. Quiet as always compared to her boisterous husband and son, I had to lean toward her to hear her. She placed her slim hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes with a mixture of what looked like happiness and possibly sadness, "Welcome to our family dear." She hugged me loosely.

"Thank you Mrs. Evenson," I said smiling at her, thinking that the sadness must be over losing her son so I tried to assure her, "I will be a good wife to him."

She nodded and smiled weakly at me. "I know you will be."

The rest of the evening was the liveliest Christmas ever with song, merriment and drink continuing late into the night. The women of my family sat around me discussing dates and planning arrangements. I barely listened as I watched the people around me. This was my entire family now, right here in this room - my own family, Michael's and now the Evensons. I knew others would be invited to share in our celebration but the people surrounding me now were truly all I needed.

I looked over toward Charles; he was looking right at me like there was no one else in the room. I smiled and he smiled back, mouthing the words, "I love you." I blew him a kiss, which he caught and took to his heart.


	10. June 1917

Chapter 10 – June 1917

I stared out the window over our family's farm. It was a beautiful, bright and sunny day. It was the kind of weather that brides prayed for their wedding day.

"It is almost time Esme," my mother called from the hallway.

I stepped away and took another look in the mirror, at the stranger standing in front of it. Not a strand of hair was out of place, the makeup was light but also perfection, the veil tumbled from the crown of my head down my back and the gown with layers of lace and satin went to my ankles where my white shoes poked out.

I was content. Not excited. Not thrilled. Not even happy. Just content.

I asked Millie, Helen and my mother for a moment alone to compose myself. I was sure they thought it was because I was overwhelmed with emotion and I wished that was the case. I was numb and had worked myself to content in the last few minutes but I wasn't expecting much more than that for now.

Although Charles had wanted me to stop teaching immediately and move to Columbus after I accepted his proposal, I was firm that I wanted to finish out the school year with my students. He reluctantly agreed but was unhappy about the 50 miles between us and the fact that due to the weather, he was unable to see me for nearly two months in the winter.

When we were together, I tried so hard to make my heart leap. I wanted to feel all the emotions I knew Helen felt for Thomas, but for all the friendly affection I felt for Charles, the happiness I felt at seeing him when he walked into the room, my heart did not pound and my head did not swoon.

So here I stood, about to become his bride, him knowing full well that my eyes did not reflect the emotions he felt toward me. I feared I was robbing him of something he truly deserved. I had spoken to my mother about this fear and she told me that when she married father he was more in love with her than she was with him but she knew he was a good choice and with time her heart matched his.

"Esme?" I had not noticed that my mother had silently come in the door and was standing behind me. She looked at my reflection and walked toward me taking my hand and patting it with motherly affection. "Your grandparents are looking down and smiling. You are doing the right thing dear. This is the right choice. Do not forget what I told you."

Shaking my head in agreement, I squeezed her hand and gave her the smile of a happy bride.

At that moment Helen and Millie bounded into the room, laughing and fawning over me. In a whirl I was out the door and sitting in the carriage, my father holding my hand next to me and my mother and the ladies excitedly chattering across from us as we headed to the church.

Charles had wanted to wed in Columbus but my parents insisted that we get married in the church where I was baptized and they still went to every Sunday. Reluctantly, my parents had agreed to let his parents co-host the reception in Columbus.

Before I knew it, I was standing in the back of the church and a moment later the music began and I was in the aisle. My arm on my father's, a smile on my face as I knew it should be and Charles waiting at the end of it. Charles eyes locked on mine, and a smile spread across his face. I saw Arthur, his best friend and best man, pat his shoulder.

It was mostly a blur. I remember my father lifting my veil and kissing my cheek with tears in his eyes before handing me over to Charles. I remember the minister's voice but not the words. I remember "I do" and Charles looking in my eyes as he repeated the minister's words and slid the ring on my finger and I in turn doing the same. Then I heard, "You may kiss the bride." I turned once again to face Charles; his eyes were dancing as he gently took my cheeks in his hands and kissed me sweetly. He continued to hold onto my face as the minister introduced us to the congregation and a cheer erupted from our room full of witnesses. I couldn't help but smile at everyone's exuberance as we walked down the aisle.

When we exited through the doors out into the sunlight, our hands still clasped, I turned to face Charles. As I tried to look at him, his arms went around my waist lifting me into the air and as he brought me down to the ground he kissed me deeply, the pressure verging on painful. As he released me, he chuckled as he leaned into my hair and whispered, "You are mine now forever."

I was dumbstruck for a moment but quickly regained my composure as the receiving line began. I now got to see the individual faces that made up the nearly standing room only ceremony. All of the Ohio Platt's were present, and the few members of Charles's small extended family, old schoolmates and their families I had known my whole life, Charles's friends from university and business partners from the bank.

When the last hand was shook and the congratulatory kiss was placed on my cheek, we climbed into the back seat of the automobile that Charles's father was usually driven in for the ten mile drive to our reception.

We waved out the window until the car rounded the bend and I couldn't see any of my loved ones anymore. As we settled on the seat for the journey, Charles arm slipped behind me around my waist and his lips pressed against my cheek. He whispered in my ear, "I am so happy Mrs. Evenson."

I turned to face him and genuinely smiled, "I am too."

His eyes were bright as he glanced down at my gown and back to my eyes, "You looked like an angel fallen from heaven when you came down the aisle. I thought to myself, how did I get so lucky?" He leaned in to kiss my lips again and I let my husband have them but as his hand fell on my knee I felt my body tense. His lips moved across my cheek. Once again close to my ear he spoke, "Relax Esme Evenson, I love you." My breath caught in my throat as his lips continued moving down my neck. As his lips pressed against the base of my throat I found myself involuntarily giggling and pushing Charles away. He looked at me at me with hurt in his eyes and I thought I caught a flash of anger. He sat up quickly and turned to look out the window before looking back at me smiling at me now. "I'm sorry my dear. Of course there will be time for all of that later tonight."

He took my hand and kissed it, then wrapped his arm around me, putting my head gently against his shoulder. We rode in silence the last few miles into Columbus.

* * *

A repeat of the morning - I was alone in front of the mirror again, but my attire, though still white, was quite different.

It had been a long day and the wedding ceremony itself seemed like it was weeks ago not just a few hours before. The party had gone on for hours and I would have been happy just to go to sleep but I knew that was not the fate waiting for me on the other side of the door.

In secondary school I had studied biology and anatomy so I understood the physical basics but at the moment I didn't feel like it prepared me for tonight.

I had asked my mother what to expect. Her response was not particularly helpful.

"Women had been having relations with their husbands since the beginning of time. You will be fine. Just let him lead the way."

Helen was a bit giddier.

"I won't lie to you Esme," her face turning red. "It wasn't comfortable at first but then the pain eased and we barely got out of bed for the rest of the honeymoon."

Finally I went to Grace.

"Oh Esme, by the time you are an old married woman like me…" she paused, a thoughtful look on her face as she smiled, "we don't as often but it is still wonderful."

With the country going to war just a month ago and the Selective Service Act passed, Charles had decided that we would spend our honeymoon period at home.

Our new home had been an overwhelming wedding gift from Jonathan and Mary. Located in one of the more fashionable areas of Columbus, it was larger than Michael and Sarah's home by several rooms. It was more house than I knew what to do with but then again a lot of the decisions had been made for me. It was fully decorate by the time I saw it for the first time earlier this week. Much of it wasn't a style I would have chosen at all but I guess I should not be ungrateful.

When I finished teaching last week, my trunks that usually went to my parents' home for the summer went straight here so at least I knew I had a few things packed away that I could use to make this place feel more like my home.

The last of my things that had gone with me to my parents for my last week at home had been dropped off by a family friend on his way to the reception. Joyce had been here to accept it. With a house so large, the Evensons felt it was absolutely necessary that we had at least one full-time servant to help me manage running the house. Joyce had the experience of more than two decades with Charles parents and seemed eager to make the move to our home.

Eager to please, or maybe just anticipating our needs, she had placed my nightgown on a hanger on the back of my closet door. Now I stood staring at my reflection, the silk and lace against my skin.

I was as ready as I was ever going to be for today's second rite of passage but I was still staring at the door that led to our bedroom. I took a deep breath and turned the door knob to this strange new room where I would lay my head nightly for the rest of my life.

Charles was standing by the window and he quickly closed the curtain as he turned to look at me. He was wearing a burgundy robe that went to his ankles. I forced a smile onto my face as I walked toward him with what felt like weights for ankles. His hands went up to motion for me to stop. "Just let me look at you for a moment Esme."

I stopped as his eyes roamed from my face down my body and back again to my eyes. His eyes were wide and bright with a look of wanting as he moved toward me. My feet were frozen to the floor.

He reached around behind me, pulling me into his arm, pressing his body against mine. I tried to relax but he leaned down, pressing his lips to mine, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth. Although I wanted to push him away my mother's voice screamed in my head, "Just let him lead the way."

After what seemed like an eternity, he withdrew and looked down at me with a roguish smile, his eyes moving downward, "As pretty as that is my dear wife, I have been longing to see what is underneath it."

My heart stopped as Charles hands reached down and grabbed the fabric of my nightgown and pulled it up, my arms automatically raising, as he kept moving his arms upward and suddenly my shield was gone. My arms instinctually went to cover my breasts, but he caught my hands, pulling them aside, chuckling, "You are not going to spoil this for me." I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as he leaned down to pull my underwear to the floor, tossing it to the side, leaving a kiss on my stomach as he stood back up.

I was trying to breath and trying not to tremble. The evening was warm so it wasn't a matter of being cold. Charles walked around me now, inspecting my body from every angle, with eyes that reminded me of a hungry animal. He finally stopped in front of me and stared into my eyes as he untied the sash of his robe and dropped it to the floor. I had never seen a naked man in the flesh but there he was and I'm sure shock was registering on my face. Whatever my expression, it made him laugh as he threw his muscular arms up turning around where he stood so I could see everything. I felt like I should have looked away but I could not avert my eyes.

He started toward me again and before I realized what I was doing, I took a step backwards. A shadow crossed his face for a moment, "Calm down Esme. I'm not going hurt you." He moved toward me again and I stayed as he wrapped me in his arms, pressing his flesh against mine making me feel sensations I had never felt before. He held me for just a moment burying his face in my hair before his mouth began its onslaught again. His kiss was more forceful this time, more desperate, and I was trying to keep up but my nerves were still getting the best of me. His hands roamed freely over my skin, while all I could do was stand there and let him, my hands not responding in the same way at all. His lips moved across my cheek and down my neck and I still couldn't move. I froze solid as his hands touched my breasts and his erection pushed against my leg. "Touch me Esme" he begged, "Please, I love you." My disembodied hands went to his shoulders and slowly moved down his chest and then I leaned forward and kissed it. That was it. He growled as he picked me up, his lips again on mine, moving quickly, dropping me down onto the bed.

I tried to sit up but as he kneeled on the bed he pushed me back down with both hands and leaned over me, his lips pushing against mine, his hands now moving downward. His hand on my knee, his lips not letting go, I tried to stop my mind and heart from racing but my nerves were frayed. He began to try to push my knees apart but they wouldn't budge. Again he tried with no result. Our lips separated then, and he looked down at me, "Darling, relax." He pushed again but harder this time, using the strength in his arms and my legs reluctantly came apart. I felt my eyes filling with tears, having never been so exposed and his hand running up my thigh was making me shake. As he positioned himself over me, I panicked and raised my hands to push him away, my legs trying to come back together, "Charles, I can't do this," I cried.

"Esme, calm down!" he said sternly but I didn't and I continued to flail. "No Charles! No!" He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down and yelled now, "Esme! Stop it! You are being ridiculous!" But I couldn't and I didn't until the slap across my face dazed me. My cheek was on fire as he grabbed my chin roughly and pulled my face toward him, his eyes now burning with anger as he hissed, "Esme Evenson, I have waited too long to have you and whether you like it or not we are consummating this marriage now."

Before I could find my voice, any compassion or tenderness gone, he viciously pushed my legs apart, and plunged into me. The pain was excruciating and it took me a moment to realize I was screaming and trying to push him off of me. He grabbed my arms roughly and pinned them with one hand over my head and then placed the other one my mouth to silence me.

I felt the tears flowing down my cheeks, the sob in my throat as he continued to thrust into me. The torture was endless until he finally released with a cry and breathing hard, fell on me, releasing my hands and my mouth. The sob finally burst out and my chest rose and fell with my cries. Regaining his breath he looked down our bodies, and with a hideous laugh said, "Well Esme, my virgin bride, you are free of that burden and now it is time for the good times."

His eyes came back to mine and he kissed a tear on my cheek but at the same time gave me a look filled with mischief that frightened me. I gasped as his mouth fell to my breast and his hand moved roughly up my thigh again. "Charles, please! No more!"

* * *

I was still wide awake. I stared at the window. I could see that twilight was coming from my position curled up on my side, facing away from his snoring body, his arm still lying possessively across my hip.

Four times he had taken me for his pleasure. After the first I begged him, after the second I pleaded with him, after the third I was silent.

I tried to reason in my mind at first that it was his exuberance and adrenaline, but his refusal to stop even when my tears and my pleading continued scared me more than any physical pain. Even on my side, I couldn't quite bring my thighs together. They burned and I was positive they were bruised from being pulled apart, held open, and pushed against repeatedly with little to no regard for my welfare. This thought made the tears reappear but I bit my lip refusing to let out any noise with him finally asleep.

Would he apologize in the morning? Would he feel remorse? Would he give me a few days to heal?

I shuddered at the thought of what the morning light would bring. A voice in my head kept repeatedly asking, "Esme, what have you done?"


	11. August 1917

_Chapter 11 – August 1917_

The front door closed behind me. I walked into the parlor, collapsed on the sofa and stared at the long shadows creeping across the floor.

It had been a long day. I was exhausted. He was gone.

A month after our wedding Charles number came up in the draft. Now, a month later, he was gone…for at least a year.

As I stood at the train station with his parents, I did my best to show my concern and wish him good luck and goodbye as a newlywed wife should. Hundreds of women, including my Helen, were there wishing farewell to their loved ones with tears streaming down their face. If I had cried such tears it would have been for the wrong reasons.

"It will feel like an eternity without you," Charles said, his hands on my cheeks, "I will miss you Esme but knowing you are here waiting for me will keep me alive. I love you." He kissed me, holding onto my lips like a man who wouldn't be kissed again for a long time.

When he let go, I patted the front of his jacket, "Take care of yourself Charles. Be safe." He looked like he was anticipating more words from me but when he didn't receive them, he turned away and went to board the train.

I stood with his parents waving until the train was out of sight. Jonathan turned to me, "Esme, I know this separation will be difficult for you. You are our daughter now and know if you need anything while Charles is gone, you can always come to us."

"Thank you, Jonathan. That is very kind of you."

"We are family. We stick together. Come over for supper tonight."

I could see Helen bawling next to Andrew and an again pregnant Grace. "Thank you so much for the invitation but I think I should be with my cousin. She is devastated. Maybe tomorrow night?"

Mary barely glanced over at Helen. Jonathan raised an eyebrow and looked at me surprised, "How are you holding it together so well Esme?"

I smiled weakly and said the line I had prepared for just this situation, "I'm proud of Charles service for our country. He is doing a great thing for our nation. How could I be so selfish as to cry over his self-sacrifice?"

Jonathan looked satisfied but there was still a slight amount of skepticism at the corner of his eyes, "Very profound dear." He hugged me, "You should teach some of that patriotism to your cousin. We should be going then. Mary," he said as he took her arm.

I barely could hear Mary say, "Good afternoon Esme." Then they were also gone.

I could see Grace glance in my direction as I approached. Helen saw me through her tears and threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder. "Esme! What are we going to do? I can't do this! I'm not strong enough without Thomas! I need him! How are you so calm?" she shrieked at me.

Grace eyed me warily.

"I'm proud of his service Helen," trying to put some enthusiasm in my tone but knowing that it still sounded flat. "Charles will be fine. He's a fighter. He'll survive. Thomas will too. I know it. With you at home, he will do everything in his power to get home to you."

This only made her cries worse, so I put my arm around her and walked her out of the station with Grace and Andrew close behind. We took her home and like a child who cried herself to exhaustion, put her to bed.

I came back downstairs to find Grace waiting for me in the sitting room. "Andrew went into the kitchen to find something to eat."

"I should get home," yawning even though it was mid-afternoon and motioning to the front door.

"Esme, come sit for just a moment."

I reluctantly took a seat on the chair next to where she sat and saw the look of concern again spread across her face. "Dear, are you alright? Are you in shock or something? Looking around you were the only woman not in tears and I would have expected you to be crying the most."

"I'm fine Grace," I said again too flatly and with her staring me down, I looked away, finally feeling tears brimming. "Didn't you hear me before, I'm proud of his service."

"Esme," she groaned. "This is me, Grace. Big sister emeritus. I've been a newlywed. I've been married for five years. I've barely seen you smile since your wedding and that is not like you. You are usually sunshine. What is so wrong?"

I turned to her, "I'm exhausted Grace," looking at her meaningfully, "All the time."

She looked at me, puzzlement on her face, but then she caught up and laughed, "Is that all? He's wearing you out?"

"Grace!" looking toward the door.

She waved me off, "I lied. I sent Andrew home so I could talk to you. I didn't want you to flee if I told you that was my plan up front." My mouth fell open. "I know you dear. I was afraid you would have flown out the door if I didn't get you to sit down."

I pondered that for a second and nodded in agreement.

She smiled and reached over and took my hand. "So he was keeping you up at night, huh?"

I could feel my cheeks burning as I nodded again.

"Well that's to be expected Esme! Don't be angry with him for it. You were his new beautiful bride and then he found out he was going to war and probably wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before he went away for a year."

I was mortified but since I realized Grace would listen, "He's rather forceful Grace."

There was barely a night since the wedding that he hadn't pounced upon me. "No" wasn't a word Charles understood in the bedroom. I tried going to bed after him but he would wait for me. I tried going to bed before he got home but he would wake me. A headache, a stomachache, my time of the month, it didn't matter to him.

"I'm sure it's because he loves you so much Esme. I couldn't keep Andrew away from me either when we were newlyweds, and, although she would hate that I was telling you this, Helen and Thomas were just ridiculous. If they came over for supper, they were practically running out the door after the meal."

In the past, I probably would have laughed but it wouldn't come. "But it's not like that Grace," I said, a bitterness to my tone that I didn't like in myself. "It is always about what he wants. He doesn't seem to care what I want or if he is hurting me."

"That will change. Men have a one track mind sometimes but with time he'll get past that and think more of your needs. I have been there dear."

"It's more than that Grace…" I regretted it as soon as I said and her eyes went wide with a quizzical look.

"What is it?"

I bit my lip and looked at her figure realizing it was a ridiculous question before I even asked it, "Have you ever tried not to get pregnant?"

It was Grace's turn to be shocked. It took her a moment before she breathed, "What ever do you mean Esme? That's against God's plan."

I could feel the tears trying to escape again, "He says we are not ready. He doesn't ever in…" I couldn't say it but I could see by her expression that she got the meaning.

"That's not natural," she said, awe and worry combined on her face.

"It wasn't that way at first but then I knew something was different…at first he said it was because he wanted to spend some time with just me before we had a child and then when he found out he was leaving, he said he didn't want to leave me alone in that condition."

She shook her head and I could see she was trying to rationalize it but was struggling with it, "Well I guess that is understandable."

I blew the air out of my chest, "I know but I want to have children Grace. It is what I was looking forward to most with getting married."

"Well it doesn't always work out that way even if you were trying. Look at my sister upstairs. They have been trying since their wedding night and nothing. It will though when God says it is the right time."

"Well there can't be a right time if we're not even trying!"

"I'm sure that when he gets back he will be eager to start a family with you Esme. These are trying times. Give him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't the most opportune time to get married. He knew there was a chance he would get drafted before the wedding and I'm sure his mind has not been in the best place. He loves you though. I can see it in his eyes. Things will be different when he comes home."

I shook my head yes. There was no point in debating with her. "Thanks Grace. I should go."

"Alright dear," she chuckled, "I won't torture you anymore."

I laughed, "You're not torturing me. I am tired. It has been a long day."

She smirked at me, "Well you should get a good night's rest tonight and for quite some time."

I wasn't smiling now. "We shouldn't be laughing about this Grace. He has gone off to fight for our country."

"Yes, of course you're right. I'm sorry," the smirk wiped off her face.

"Are you heading home? I'll walk you out."

"No. I'll stay here for a bit. I don't want her to be alone when she wakes up."

I nodded, glancing toward the stairs. "Please tell her I'll stop by tomorrow."

"I will."

I bid Grace goodbye then headed home and now just sat in the silent darkening house.

"Mrs. Evenson?"

I startled at the sound of the voice and looked up to find Joyce had silently approached the doorway.

"Yes Joyce."

"Can I get anything for you ma'am? Something to eat? A cup of tea?"

"I'm not hungry. A cup of tea would be nice." I stood up. "I'll join you in the kitchen."

She nodded and I followed her. Joyce was a colored woman who I thought was in her mid 40s. She had been serving the Evensons since they were married. I was guessing she had a devotion to Charles, having watched him grow up, since she so easily left his parents home after such a long time with them.

I stood watching her put the kettle on the stove. She politely smiled at me and gestured. "There's a stool there ma'am. Please take a seat."

I looked around the room as I sat. "I haven't spent enough time in this room since I moved in."

"Well ma'am that is to be expected. Do you enjoy the kitchen?"

"Sometimes. The kitchen was always my mother's territory," I found myself grinning. "If she needed your help you better be there in an instant, but otherwise it was best to stay out of her way. She is a great cook though and she did teach me my way around one."

She chuckled, "Well the other Mrs. Evenson didn't like the kitchen and treated it as my territory. She rarely entered the room. Know you are welcome in here anytime and I'll put you to work too."

I laughed, "Any time Joyce but please call me Esme."

Her face became serious and she shook her head, "No thank you Mrs. Evenson. The elder Mr. Evenson was very clear on his thoughts about how to be addressed. I'm sure your Mr. Evenson has similar views on the subject."

I wasn't in the mood to argue but I was curious, "Why do you think that is?"

She looked thoughtful for a second, obviously debating internally whether or not to say anything but then spoke, "Position in society is important to elder Mr. Evenson and I'm sure to the younger as well. Everyone has their place and mine is cooking and cleaning for and taking care of the Evenson family and I am just fine with that."

"I am happy you are here Joyce."

"I am happy to be here Mrs. Evenson," she smiled as she placed a cup of tea in front of me, already prepared exactly as I would do so myself. "Now after your tea, you should probably get some rest and get those purple circles out from under your eyes. You should be able to get some sleep at nights now."

"I'm staying in the guest room."

Joyce stared blankly at me for a moment, but then went back to putting away the sugar, "I'll run up and make sure everything is alright in it. Is this just for tonight because you don't want to go to your bed alone?"

"No," I could feel the flatness creeping back into my voice. "There are too many memories in our bedroom already. I don't want to stay in there."

She smiled knowingly but really not knowing at all, "I'll move your things over to the guest room then."

"Not tonight Joyce but I'll help you with it in the morning."

"As you wish ma'am. I'm going to run up though to check on the room."

Alone again, I sipped my tea and smiled to myself. It would be nice to have Joyce for company and now with Charles gone, hopefully she would move from a shadow to a friend.

"I moved your pillow and put your nightgown in the guest room," she announced as she reentered the kitchen and picked up my now empty tea cup. "Are you sure I can't get you anything to eat?"

"No. I'm fine. Thank you. I'm just going to bed."

"Well then I wish you sweet dreams Mrs. Evenson. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night Joyce."

I ascended the back staircase, walked straight past our bedroom door without even a glance at it and into the guest room where I indeed found everything laid out for me and the bed turned down.

I wearily took off my dress and examined the bruises on my wrists and arms. They were darker than this morning. As I pulled my nightgown over my head, I though how nice it would be to be able to wear shorter sleeves again but it would probably be a few weeks at least.

I climbed into the never slept in bed, enjoying the difference in smell and feel and quickly dozed off, enjoying my first full night's slumber in almost three months.


	12. World War I 1917 to 1919

_Chapter 12 – World War I 1917-1919_

December 2, 1917

Dear Esme,

I am in France at the moment. It is so cold at times at times that I feel that I will never feel warmth again until I'm back with you in our bed.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and I hope you long for me the way I long for you.

I know you are not completely happy with your situation but know that I love you and the thought of coming home to you is what keeps me going as I live the horrors of this war. I hope that this separation is giving you time to reflect on our relationship and make you finally realize that we are meant for each other.

When I come home, I expect you to be ready to give your heart to me.

I wish this Christmas was going to be as joyous as the last one but I fear I will be spending it in a trench. Know that you'll be in my thoughts.

Stop asking me about teaching. I know it amused you to run a classroom but you are my wife now. Your place is running our home and there is no need for you to work. It would be an embarrassment to our family for you to take a job.

Please write to me more. Many of the men in my unit's wives write them several times a week, much more than the once a month I've been receiving from you.

Merry Christmas Esme.

Love,

Charles

I had read the letter several times since it arrived on Monday and now on Friday, I sat down to write my obligatory reply.

December 28, 1917

Happy New Years Charles.

I wish it was a happier one for you that had you here in Columbus with us. I hope by now you have received my care package and that it has brought you some comfort.

Thank you for my Christmas present. We spent Christmas at Michael Platt's again this year. Your father gave me the broach locket then. I am wearing it close to my heart.

Do not worry about teaching. I have not had time to think about it lately. I have been too busy volunteering and doing my part to help the cause. When I'm not raising money for the Red Cross or knitting socks, I have been spending time with Helen. While she is excited to be having a baby, it is difficult going through this pregnancy with Thomas an ocean and then some away.

I have been dining with your parents at least once a week. I always go to their home on Sunday and sometimes another night or they come here. They said to send their love to you the next time I wrote you.

I will write more often.

Stay safe Charles.

Your wife,

Esme

* * *

April 23, 1918

Dear Esme,

The flowers blooming in the field before me remind me of the blooms you carried on our wedding day. It has been ten months today since our wedding and how cruel is it that fate swept me away from you so quickly.

I wish I could smell the flowers but the air is filled with only the smell of ammunition and death. One of my men said he believes the flowers are God's way of distracting us from the fact that we are in hell. I had to agree with him.

From your last letter it sounds like you have been busy redecorating. I don't understand why you feel the need to change things already. It is a waste of money. It was with a lot of effort and expense that I had the house furnished and decorated before we moved in. I hope I recognize the place when I get home.

I hope the spring has been lovely for you and the rains haven't been too heavy.

Love,

Charles

May 18, 1918

Dear Charles,

It has been a busy spring that has brought such joy to my life. Helen gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Laura Sarah Cooper, on May 14. She is a healthy and so far a happy baby, giving Helen no trouble at all. I'm sure Thomas will be in love with her the instant he sees her when he finally comes home.

My godchild, Joseph, is growing like a weed. I can't wait for you to meet him. When I have free time, I find myself drawn to Andrew and Grace's home. I love the noise and the laughter of the three children. It is such a joyful sound. Edith and Fred are enamored with their baby brother and it is beautiful to watch them together.

As for the house, I am just bringing a bit of me into it Charles. While I appreciate your thoughtfulness and the expense of getting the home prepared prior to my arrival, I am just adding a little bit of my tastes to it. I'm making it our home. I think you will like what you see.

I have begun singing at church. I know it sounds silly but they needed more voices for the choir and I can fill in at the piano during practices. I have not been in the choir since I was 14 but find that I am enjoying it immensely.

As always, I pray for your safety.

Your wife,

Esme

* * *

July 4, 1918

Dear Esme,

The temperatures are extreme. The U.S. Army uniform was not made for 90 degree plus weather. It is unbearable.

On this Independence Day I hope that I will find my own independence soon away from the United States Army. While I relish America's freedom, I find myself many nights wondering why I am fighting in this foreign land. I feel that the life I have left to live, the one spent by your side, is worth so much more than this fight. Being killed in this fight would be pointless.

My father writes that he feels you are over exerting yourself between all of your volunteer activities, church obligations and time with your cousins. He says you have been skipping Sunday supper with them some weeks. Esme, please do not neglect my parents.

While I was hoping for news by now that my service would be up in September, I doubt that will be the case. It seems the army is holding onto us as long as possible. I just want to come home to you.

I keep your picture close to my heart. I miss you so.

Love,

Charles

July 30, 1918

Dear Charles,

I am sad to inform you of a loss in my family. We received word yesterday that our Great Uncle Edwin has passed. He succumbed, like so many, to the horrible Spanish Flu that is killing so many here. While they are seeing some cases here in Columbus, it is devastating cities like Chicago and New York. They think Uncle Edwin may have contracted it in Boston. While some of the Massachusetts's family has shown signs of illness, luckily none seem to have contracted it. There is no doubt that this disease is the home front enemy at the moment.

I am sorry if your father feels that I have been over exerting myself. I am only serving our country and taking care of other family members who need support at the moment. Did your father inform you I have been spending time with your mother? I have gotten her involved with several of my volunteer activities and she seems to be enjoying herself. If missing two Sundays, one being because my parents were in town and the other being because George and his family were visiting his parents and invited me to dine with them, upset him so much, then I will make sure I never miss it again.

Speaking of my parents, the reason for their visit was to deliver my grandmother's rocking chair. I began restoring it years ago but my father finally got back to it this summer and brought it to me. I put it in the back bedroom for now as I think that will be the best room for a nursery. It is closest to our room.

I pray for your safe return soon so we can move forward with our life together.

Your wife,

Esme

* * *

August 1918

"He thought her more charming than ever, and, a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, gave her two sisters a home in the palace, and that very same day married them to two great lords of the Court. The End."

I closed the book with my free hand and looked down at the enthralled faces before me.

"Again!" cried out Edith.

Fred groaned, "Esme, can't you read something without princesses."

I laughed, "How about Little Red Riding Hood?"

The little boy shrugged but settled back down.

"I think it is time for some naps," said Grace as she walked up behind the children causing them to groan. "And the sun is getting pretty hot and you will not be happy later if your skin is red and sore. I'm sure Cousin Esme will be happy to read you more stories later."

"I would love to."

"Come on you two," Grace said as Edith and Fred begrudgingly stood up and took their mother's hand. "The front bedroom alright Esme?"

"The one on the left. I'm sad to say the other one is a mess."

Grace laughed, "You have priorities other than keeping a spare room clean." She nodded her head to the already starting to doze child on my lap, "You want to keep that one down here?"

I nodded yes and she took the other two inside. Joseph was leaning his head against my shoulder and as I looked over at his sweet face I saw him peaking at me through tired eyes. I chuckled as I stood up and headed into the house with him. It was probably best for us to both get out of the sun too.

"You must be quite a Mother Goose Esme" Grace called out as she walked down the stairs meeting me in hall before heading into the living room. "They both demanded that you must read another story to them after they wake up."

"Years of practice on dolls, siblings and then students," I smirked as I took a seat on the sofa by Helen, who was falling asleep where she sat with a sleeping Laura on her lap.

Grace sat down, "Oh Esme, your children are going to adore you."

"Someday but for now I'll just take the adoration of your children," I said with a wink, wrapping my arms tighter around a now sleeping Joseph.

"Oh no. That one is actually a sleeper. You can take one of the other two," she joked.

"I'm taking Edith then. She likes the princess stories."

We both laughed, which stirred Helen. She looked at us crossly and shushed us, indicating the sleeping baby in her arms and whispered, "Please! She is actually sleeping. She kept me up half the night."

"Sorry!" we both whispered with a giggle as Helen leaned her head back, eyes closing again.

"Have you heard from Charles, recently?"

"Of course," I said with a sigh.

"Any chance of him coming home soon?"

I shook my head, "No. They extended his twelve months by another six so that would put him coming home in March."

"I'm sorry dear. We are worried that the same thing will happen to Thomas. At this rate, that child will be a year old before he meets her."

"I know. I just wish that it would end already and they would all come home."

"If they don't hurry up they won't be able to celebrate coming home with a drink."

I groaned, "Is it going to pass?"

"If those loud mouth women don't shut up it will."

"Temperance," I huffed shaking my head. "Turning good men into criminals."

"Whatever do you mean Esme?"

"The way I see it is that it will just force men like my father, who has a drink of whisky almost every night and it has never hurt him or anyone else, into committing criminal acts to obtain liquor. And the men who have a problem will also still find a way to get it but it may drive them to more excess since they won't know when they will get their next drink. It is going to create more problems than solve any."

Grace lowly whistled, "Wow Esme, you should run for office. You could teach them something in Congress."

I laughed lightly now, as to not wake the ruling majority of sleepers in our midst, "Well they are not going to let me in until I can at least vote."

"Well that's coming too."

"Not soon enough to vote the idiots passing that law out."

Grace shrugged, "It is what it is."

We sat silently for a moment before Grace inquired, "So don't think I didn't notice your comment earlier."

Confusion crossed my face, "What comment?"

"That they would all come home. Does that include Charles?"

My mouth fell open before I whispered, "Of course I want him to come home. Although I may not have been totally happy with our first few months of marriage, I don't wish him injured or having to continue to serve on the battlefield. They have had enough."

Grace nodded, watching me closely, "And what else is it?"

"Why can you read me so well?"

Grace chuckled and waited.

I rubbed my hand over Joseph's back, "I want this."

"I already told you can't have that one."

"I want my own Grace. I want to move forward and start a family. I love spending time with your children…"

Grace cut me off, "And they love spending time with you and you are welcome to spend time with them anytime."

"Thank you Grace but I long to hold my own babies in my arms and even if Charles was coming home tomorrow and I became pregnant the same night, I'm going to be 24 by the time I have my first one and now with March as the date, chances are I'll be 25 at this rate."

"Honey, 25 is not old and you still have plenty of time to build your brood. I had that one at 27 and I'm sure we are not done yet."

I sighed again, "I know but I just feel so ready for it now."

"Maybe you are spending too much time with our kids but we aren't going to change that. I've told you before Esme, when the time is right you will be a mother and your children are going to adore you."

I smiled at her and then looked back at Joseph whose little fingers had wrapped around my hair, "I hope so."

"I know so."

* * *

November 1, 1918

Dearest Esme,

I don't have a lot of time to write but it appears that this might all be over soon. While I would hope to be home before Christmas I doubt that will be the case. Soon enough though, I will be holding you again. This separation combined with what I have witnessed has made this the worse period of my life.

Your letters at times bring such comfort. I hope to look upon your face again soon.

Love,

Charles

December 25, 1918

Merry Christmas from everyone in Columbus.

Going to Michael's house seems to have become a tradition among our families and it is a lovely one. Maybe next year with you home, we can have everyone over to our home.

It was fun to spend the day with all the children. Every year it seems Michael and Sarah have a grandchild celebrating his or her first Christmas. It is such a wonderful celebration.

I am delighted to know that you will be home soon, but am sad that you didn't make it for Christmas.

Come home to me soon Charles.

Yours always,

Esme

* * *

January 1919

"Mrs. Evenson," Joyce said as she walked into the sitting room where I was reviewing my to do list, "you would be hard pressed to find one speck of dust in this house."

"Thank you so much Joyce," I said, barely looking up, "but I think I would be hard pressed to ever find a speck of dust in here. Did you go to the market?"

"I did and Mr. Evenson's favorite meal will be ready for him when you get home tomorrow."

"Did you get extra just in case his parents come?"

"There will be enough for everyone."

"And the front guest room?"

"Everything is back in yours and Mr. Evenson's room and the guest room looks like it has never been slept in."

"Joyce I don't know what I would do without you."

She chuckled, "I am sure I could have walked out the door for forever yesterday and this place would still be in perfect condition for Mr. Evenson's return and you would have no problem cooking for him either. You would probably do a better job than me," she laughed.

"I highly doubt that. You've tasted my cooking. While it is good, it can't hold a candle to yours Joyce."

"Well thank you very much ma'am. It is late and you have a long day tomorrow. You should get to bed Mrs. Evenson."

"Thank you for everything Joyce."

"The train arrives at noon?"

"Yes."

"Well alright then. I will be by in the morning to make sure you eat. You'll be a nervous Nellie and I won't have you passing out on the train platform because I didn't feed you."

I chortled, "Thank you. I guess everything is done that can be done to prepare."

"Yes it is so get up to that bed."

I stood up, hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. She looked very surprised as I let go of her. "You are the best Joyce. I would have never survived alone in this house for the last year and a half without you."

She brushed me off with an embarrassed smile, "I'm just doing my job Mrs. Evenson but thank you. That is very kind of you."

"Good night Joyce," I said as I started up the steps.

"Good night Mrs. Evenson," she called after me.

I headed into our bedroom. I had barely entered in a last year and a half. It looked unremarkable now. I quickly changed and climbed into the bed for my last sleep alone. I drifted into slumber and the same dream that I had so many nights with the towheaded child in my arms played through my mind again.


	13. January 1919

_Chapter 13 – January 1919_

It was like a reversal of that September day which sent so many men away. Now the same faces gathered at the train station to welcome the same faces home. There were some new faces, like little Laura in Helen's arms, and some missing ones - the ones whose loved one already came home in a box.

The noise was a deafening cacophony of the train arriving and the cheering crowd. We stayed back since there was no point in pushing forward. It would only result in us getting shoved and they had to exit this way anyway.

We strained our necks and it was Thomas who appeared first. I saw him lock eyes on Helen before she did. The moment I turned to point him out to her I saw her eyes meet his. Nothing and no one else existed as he pushed through the throng to her and swept her into his arms, baby and all, kissing her with such passion and adoration that I knew I should look away but I was spellbound.

"Esme!" I heard Jonathan call out, pulling my attention off my cousin. I looked toward him and to see him pointing and my eyes traced the direction of his gesture.

It took me a moment to recognize the man whose ring I wore. He was thin, his face drawn and tired and he looked older than I remembered.

I didn't realize I was walking forward until he looked in my eyes from several yards away. We approached each other silently, so different from the screams and cries of joy around us. Our toes touched and my fingers went up to trace over the face of my friend that close up looked even older and sadder than it did from afar.

Charles reached silently for one of my hands and brought it to his lips, kissing my palm, his eyes never leaving mine. "Welcome home Charles," I quietly said just for him. He embraced me then, holding me close and tight as I reached around him and did the same. It seemed like we were in that moment forever before he tilted his head toward mine and kissed me so tenderly that I forgot for a moment whose arms I was in.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have seen in 16 months," he said staring into my eyes with honesty and what appeared to be sincerity.

"Welcome home son," said Jonathan pounding Charles on the back, apparently having decided that we had enough of reunion moment. Charles kept one arm around my waist as he heartily shook his father's hand but released me to hug his mother. I saw her mouth move but couldn't hear what she said to him but he smiled at whatever it was.

I felt a hand on my arm and turned to find Thomas behind me waiting for a hug and I obliged. "You can't even begin to imagine how much she has missed you," I said in his ear.

"I think I have some idea," he said releasing me and smiling, his face too was missing some of its youthfulness. "I want to get home but you must come over soon Esme so I can hear all of your news from the last year."

"I will. I promise but I'll let you settle back in and get to spend some time with your daughter first."

He glanced over at Helen and Laura. "I'm looking forward to that but I will see you soon."

He turned back toward them but I called out, "Oh and Thomas," he looked back at me, "Congratulations papa."

He beamed, "Thank you dear."

I turned my attention back to Charles and his parents who were waiting for me with an expectant look. "I'm sorry," I said at once moving to Charles side and taking his arm.

"Just take me home Esme," he said quietly as I led him through the crowd and out of the train station.

Jonathan drove us home and supper was ready as Joyce said it would be. His parents dined with us. Jonathan did most of the talking, rambling on about business colleagues and the bank in general. Charles seemed to feign interest but his gaze kept returning to me.

They didn't stay too long after supper and showed themselves out. Joyce came in to clear the last few things off the table and although she didn't say much throughout the evening she spoke up now. "Mr. Evenson, it is wonderful to have you home. I took the liberty of running a bath for you. It is ready for you when you are."

"Thank you Joyce and thank you for the meal."

"You're welcome sir. I know it is your favorite. Mrs. Evenson, I have a few things to clean up and then I'll be on my way."

"Thank you for everything Joyce. Have a good evening."

"Good evening ma'am. Sir." She said with a nod and left the room.

"Let's get you upstairs," I said pushing back my chair and moving to his side to help him.

He laughed for the first time since he got off the train, "I'm not an invalid Esme," he said as he stood up, again wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked up the steps. I dropped him off at the bathroom. I knew everything he needed would be in there already.

I walked into our bedroom. The bed was already turned down and I shook my head. At times I felt like Joyce was too good to me. I changed and climbed into the bed to wait for him.

It was nearly an hour before he padded into the room, looking exhausted. I smiled over at him and he weakly returned it. He took off his robe and now in his pajamas, I could see were big on him, I could tell how lean his frame had become.

He turned off the light as he climbed into bed. Quite unexpectedly, he slid his arm under me, pulling me to him, my back against his chest as he buried his face in my hair, "This is what I've dreamt of nearly every night I was away. Just holding you close to me again." He kissed my cheek. "Goodnight Esme."

Moments later he was asleep, me still nestled in his arms bewildered. I had been ready to be submissive. I had been prepared to make this work but I didn't expect it to be so easy. Had the war changed him this much? I soon peacefully fell asleep.

* * *

I was awakened by Charles kissing the back of my neck. I peaked, opening my eyes just a little, and found that it was morning. I squeezed his hand still holding me to him so he would know I was awake. He loosened his grip and I rolled over to face him. In the early morning light, I could see that while still tired, he was rested, and his eyes were full of wanting.

I stuck to my resolve and wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him. For once he tensed, but then responded in kind pulling me against him again. My fingers began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and moments later I pushed it off over his shoulders and down his arms. Yes he had become leaner, but his arms, no longer hidden, had become quite muscular. He reached down for the hem of nightgown and before I knew it we were lying naked beside each other, staring into each other's eyes.

"I have missed you so much," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss my cheek and from there his lips began to trail down my neck and continued down my body, but it was so different than any prior experience. He was gently and focused on me. I heard him mumble against my skin words of love and longing and worship even. I was nearly in shock again wondering if the army had sent home a new man.

When he finally came back to my lips, leaning over me looking down into my eyes, "Are you ready for me love?"

I nodded dumbfounded and weaved my arms around him as his tongue danced with mine and he slowly entered me. There was no force. No pain. This, I thought, must be what it is suppose to be like.

We made love all morning. I was ecstatic. I had been so ready to try to adapt to him and do anything possible to make this marriage work but now it seemed that he was the one who had changed. This was the man I had agreed to marry. This was the man who I could eventually give my heart to. The controlling, overbearing monster of the beginning of our marriage was gone, replaced with my dearest friend Charles.

It was early afternoon and my head was on his shoulder his arm wrapped around my waist when he spoke up, "So Esme, I guess I have it now."

"Have what dear?" I murmured, punctuated with a kiss on his shoulder.

"Your heart," he murmured as he pressed his lips to my forehead.

I sighed and smiled with a chuckle, "You're getting closer."

His fingers went to my chin and tilted it to look at me and I found his eyes full of intensity, "Esme, there are only three words I have longed to hear from your mouth."

I bit my lower lip and stared back at his face choosing my words carefully but meaning every one, "Charles," I said softly caressing his face, "I am your wife. I will take care of you in sickness and in health. I will bear your children and raise a family with you. I will be your best friend and be the person you can come to at any time of need. I love you as my dearest friend but the way you want me to say those words is just not in my heart yet but I feel that the time may be getting closer."

I leaned in to kiss him but he pushed me away with a groan as he turned over away from me.

"I am sorry, dear." I said as I tried to put my arms around him but as he felt my arms touch him, he threw off the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. I followed, again trying to wrap my arms around his shoulders but was rebuked as he stood up and walked to the closet and disappeared into it. I was sure my eyes were wide with surprised as they followed his retreating figure. He came out a moment later, dressed with his jacket over his arm and his shoes in his hand and a look of disdain on his face.

"Charles, don't be upset," I said quietly watching him fix his tie from the bed.

He shook his head as he looked at me and said with a joking but laced with bitterness tone, "Esme, it is after noon. Did you expect me to stay in bed all day? I just got home. There are other people I need to see besides you."

He sat down on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on and again I tried to hold him but he caught my hands and pushed them away, "I appreciate your sudden enthusiasm, Esme. It is about time but there will be time for that later."

I sat back and pulled the sheets up around me, feeling my cheeks turning red. "Where are you going?" I asked.

He stood up and put on his jacket and glanced over at me as he headed toward the door, "Does it matter? To see Arthur," he paused and added looking at me now, "We need to toast me happy return. Even though you women felt it necessary to make alcohol illegal while your men were fighting for you I'm sure my best friend knows where to obtain a stiff drink."

I tried once more, "Charles, please don't go."

He looked at me with sad but hardened eyes, "I'm just giving your heart time," and he walked out the door closing it with a slight force behind him, leaving me staring at the door.

* * *

It was late and Charles still wasn't home. I was in the front room, trying to focus on Pride and Prejudice, and in turn trying to swallow the lessons learned by Elizabeth and Darcy.

I lay in bed for quite a while after Charles's abrupt departure thinking that he would realize his folly and quickly return, but he didn't so I eventually had to arise and make do with the rest of the day. Besides a quick meal in the kitchen, I situated myself in this chair waiting for his return. The clock in the hall was chiming twelve and I was beginning to worry.

Soon it was half past midnight. I was starting to think about calling the police when I heard men's laughter outside, and someone ascending the outside steps. A moment later, the front door opened and I felt a cold gust come rushing into the house. I heard Charles jovially call out to whoever he was with, "Good night gentlemen! Thank you for a most entertaining evening." The door closed solidly and I stood up.

"Charles?" I asked, and waited until his head poked around the doorframe.

"Look who waited up for me!" he slurred, sauntering into the room, pulling off his hat and coat, which were brushed with a trace of snow.

"Charles, are you alright? It is so late and you were gone so long. I was getting worried."

His brow wrinkled as he threw his coat on the chair and went to do the same with his hat, but he failed to notice it hitting the floor instead. "Can't I go out with my friends and celebrate my triumphant return from war?"

"Yes of course you can," I said lightly trying to soften the mood. "And it appears you had a festive evening."

"Well of course I did."

"Where did you go?"

"Somewhere warm where the alcohol flowed freely…" his voice trailed off as I watched his thoughts change to a different direction. "You know, it didn't take long for some secret hideaway places to pop up where you can get a drink. When did that law take effect?"

"Last week."

"Yeah, really fast. There are some industrious people out there Esme."

"It is also illegal."

He brushed off my statement with a "pshaw."

"Really, Charles. I don't think your father would have been very happy with you if he had had to bail you out of jail within your first 48 hours back in Columbus."

He chuckled this time.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Like I would get arrested?" he said sitting down on the sofa, putting his feet up on the table in front of him. "Esme, being the son of a wealthy bank owner, and hence future wealthy bank owner myself, we don't get arrested. We get a stern talking to or a slap on a wrist or a raided wallet, but behind bars is somewhere I will never go."

I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath before speaking, "Well since it is very late, and I now know you are safe and sound at home, I should get to bed."

As I went to move past him he caught my wrist, "Wait, wait, wait," he said. "I want to talk to you," tugging me slightly and bringing his hands to my waist, pulled me onto his lap.

"Can it wait until morning? I am tired and you are slightly out of sorts," I said as I tried to get up, but he was holding firm to my hips.

"No, it can't wait," he said seriously as I looked into his extremely bloodshot eyes. "Alright, I gave you hours to think about it. Say it."

I was confused, "Say what?"

"The words I've been waiting for," his fingers slid to my chin and held it in place so his eyes were looked on mine. "Those three little words."

"I love you," even as I said it I could feel the complete lack of conviction behind it, and he heard it too.

"Oh come on, Esme! You can do better than that!" He yanked me by the chin to press his lips against mine, holding the back of my head with his other hand. I could smell and taste stale alcohol on his lips and tried to retreat, but he held fast. I was trying not to breath in the odor, but finally I had to gasp and he let me go. "Alright, try again."

"I love you, Charles," I hollowly choked out with a fit of coughing.

"Not quite."

He grabbed the sides of my head and pulled it toward his again, shoving his tongue into my mouth, as I failed miserably at attempting to catch my breath. When he let me go this time, I bowled over coughing and he pounded on my back to try and relieve it. When it was over, I turned back to face him with eyes that I was sure now were as red as his and said again, "I love you."

He scrutinized me for a moment, and then I watched his face change as a new burning filled his eyes.

"No, you do not," he practically growled as he pushed me off his lap onto the sofa. "And I don't understand why!" his voice raised. "You had a year and a half to sit here and think about me, and pine for me, and to let your heart grow, and you haven't changed at all!"

I was sure the color had drained from my face as I attempted to find my voice to respond.

"Charles, you knew my feelings when you proposed to me and you accepted me as I am. I never hid anything, but I am trying so hard."

"Why is it hard?" he bitterly yelled. "You were a farm girl for Christ's sake! You were well below my society. I could have married someone younger and wealthier, but I honored you. I found you beautiful and worthy of my love, but your heart remains cold. Did you marry me for my money?"

I was shocked by his accusation. I could feel the tears welling the corner of my eyes and my throat burning as I tried to contain a sob.

"Of course not," I squeezed out just above a whisper. "I married you because you were my dear friend, and you asked and you cared about me."

"Apparently more than you ever will for me."

"That's not true. I need time Charles."

"We have been married for a year and a half!"

"And you were gone for most of it and the time when you were here wasn't exactly pleasant."

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

"What the hell does that mean?" He demanded, wide eyed with fury as he grasped my wrist.

I knew I had to finish what I started now that I had opened this can of worms.

"Charles, you weren't exactly kind to me."

He glared at me.

"What are you talking about?"

"Every night you forced yourself upon me with no regard for my feelings or my needs."

"What feelings? Your heart doesn't feel anything."

His words slapped me across the face. Trying to be the bigger person, I stood up and started to walk out the room.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?" He yelled after me, still slurring his words as he struggled to his feet.

I should have kept walking, but I turned around.

"You are drunk, and I can't talk to you when you are like this if you are going to insult me. I'm going to sleep in the guest room."

"To hell you are!" he exclaimed as I turned and exited the room. Starting up the stairs, I heard his heavy footfalls following out into the hall. "I just got home. You are coming to my bed now."

I called down, not looking back, "It's our bed and I am not. Sleep it off Charles! We'll talk in the morning."

I heard him closing in on the stairs, but I refused to look back. Suddenly, and too late to react, his hand wrapped around my ankle in mid-step yanking it out from under me, causing me to go crash to the ground by the second floor landing. I threw my hands out to painfully catch myself, but the air was knocked out of me as my stomach hit the edge of the top step and my knees slammed against the step below. My ears were ringing as I stayed there, stunned in disbelief of what I believed just happened. Before I could react, Charles was turning me over. My expectation of seeing eyes filled with remorse was sorely misplaced, as I instead found eyes filled with rage. I gasped with fear as the devil looked down at me, and cried out as I felt a blow to my abdomen. In vain, I reached up and pushed at his chest with all my might, but even in his drunken state, he kept his balance over me on the stairs and raised his arm again - this time the blow to my face stunned me as I banged the back of my head on the floor.

I couldn't move. My face was throbbing and my head was filled with fog. I heard an out of place sound. It sounded like something was ripping.

"If you won't come to bed. We'll do this right here."

I was confused until I felt the cold air on my bare legs.

"Charles, no, please." I heard my garbled voice weakly cry.

My cry was met with another blow to my chest.

"You were eager enough this morning whore. Now it's my turn."

I heard the metal of his buckle unfastening. I tried in vain to get up, but forcefully was pushed down, again banging my head. As he slammed into me with no warning I screamed. Then, in one last moment to defend myself, I dug my nails into his back as I sunk my teeth hard into his shoulder causing him to yell for once.

"You bitch!" I heard as he yanked my head by my hair, and with the next blow gratefully the world went dark.

* * *

I could hear something pounding. Was it a knock? Where was I? I tentatively opened my eyes, and in that instant felt the pain wash over me and cried out. The horror of the night before flooded into my mind. I turned over and found the other side of the bed empty. I glanced toward the window and saw that it was very bright beyond the curtains. My eyes then darted toward the door where the sound was coming from.

"Mrs. Evenson! Mrs. Evenson!" I heard Joyce calling out as she knocked on the other side of the door. She must have heard my cry just then. "Mr. Evenson said you had a fall on the stairs last night and would be staying in bed for a few days to recover. Are you alright, ma'am?"

I didn't even know if I could speak, but opened my dry mouth and tried in vain to sound normal, "I'm fine, Joyce. Thank you. I'm going back to sleep," I said as I sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything? Something to eat? Do you need a doctor?"

I tried to stand up, but my first attempt failed as the room was spinning.

"No I'm fine. Please Joyce, leave me alone."

There was a pause.

"Alright, Mrs. Evenson. Please let me know if you need anything. I am here for you."

"Thank you, Joyce," I called back as I made it to my feet this time, realizing that all I had been wearing was the sheet that had been wrapped around me.

I heard her retreat down the hall. I hobbled over to the dressing area and turned on the light. I walked over to look at myself in the mirror and was shocked by the battered creature staring back at me. My left cheek was swollen from my eye to my jaw. My hand flew to the back of my head where I could feel a large bump pulsing. The rest of my body was a series of painful black and blue marks. His hand print was visible on my arms, breasts and thighs, but the rest of the marks varied in shape and size on my abdomen, shoulders and chest.

My legs gave out below me as I collapsed on the floor sobbing. How could he do this to me? Twenty-four hours ago we were lying in each others' arms in what I thought was complete bliss, and now I was destroyed. We were destroyed.

* * *

I felt something ice-cold pressed against my cheek. I groaned and heard a soft tender shushing and a gentle hand brush over my hair. I forced my eyes open and saw Joyce standing over me with a cold cloth on my cheek. I groaned again and turned my head away.

"Joyce, what are you doing? I told you I was fine."

"You don't look fine, ma'am, and you must have been having a nightmare because you were yelling something fierce."

I could see in the poor light that she was trying to scrutinize my face, but she couldn't see me that well in the shadows.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, Joyce."

"It's alright, ma'am. It is to be expected after an accident like you had."

She hesitated for a moment.

"I'm fine. Really." I said, wincing as I tried to roll over.

"How about I run you a bath, Mrs. Evenson?"

I cringed at the sound of that title, but I knew pleading with her to call me Esme would fall on deaf ears. I thought about the prospect of a bath for a moment too long.

"If you have a lot of swelling, ma'am, then a cold bath would be good, but if you are just sore then a warm bath may feel better."

I moved just slightly to assess how I felt.

"Warm would be good."

She nodded and disappeared. I heard the water start pouring into the tub. I closed my eyes and just focused all attention on that sound, attempting to keep out any other thoughts trying to creep into my mind.

Joyce returned a few minutes later. I opened my eyes and saw her standing there with my robe in her arms.

"Mrs. Evenson I can leave this here with you, or if you need help getting up, well there's nothing I haven't seen before."

I realized then that I was still wrapped in just a sheet. I wondered what he had done with the clothes that must have been destroyed by the time he was done. I thought of the purple imprint of his fingers on my thigh and my fight to get to the dressing room area and back to bed.

"Can you turn around for a moment please, Joyce? I may need your help getting to the bathroom."

She turned around and walked toward the wall, as I struggled to sit up and painfully pulled the robe over my arms. I moved slowly to tie the sash, and then finally, when I felt like the fabric was sufficiently covering my skin said, "I'm ready."

She came back over and wrapped an arm around my waist, helping me to my feet, pausing for a moment to make sure I was steady. Every step was a great effort, but finally I was in the brightly lit bathroom.

She sat me down on the toilet and went over to turn off the water.

When Joyce turned around and took a good look at me in the light, her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, "Oh Mrs. Evenson!" She rushed forward to me and opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut and composed herself.

"You must have hit your face so hard. Are you sure nothing is broken?"

"I'm sure."

"Let me just check your cheek. It looks so bad."

I nodded at her outstretched hands and winced as she gently tried to make sure my cheek bone was still intact.

"It seems to be in one piece ma'am," she said, but I could see the worry written on her face. "You must be more careful, ma'am. Those steps can be treacherous. Thank the Lord that you didn't break your neck. Do you need help getting in the bath or should I take my leave of you?"

"Please leave. Thank you, Joyce."

She scuttled to the door, but turned back, "Just call out for me when you are done," and she disappeared out the door, closing it softly behind her.

I stood up, shrugging out of the robe. I ignored the mirror as I lowered myself into the warm tub. I laid my head back against the cool porcelain, feeling the bump on the back of my head and staring at the ceiling for a few moments. Suddenly, I slid down under the water and stared up through it at the same ceiling. For an instant, I thought about staying under it - just continuing to stare through the haze of the water until I couldn't stare no more. I heard a voice in my head then saying, "You're better than that, Esme."

I sat straight up; the water dripping down my face soon mingling with my tears. I said a silent prayer to the heavens, asking my grandmother to protect me then and to watch over me. I rested my head back and called to my thoughts those that loved me and that I loved in return.

I don't know how long I sat there, but it must have been a while before I heard a soft knock on the door and Joyce's concerned voice.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

I lifted my hands and looked at my wrinkled fingers.

"I am fine. Just give me a few more minutes."

I picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing furiously at my hair, my skin, trying to erase him from me, but, for all my scouring, the marks would need time to disappear.

I dunked under the water once more, and then, with a few tries, was able to pull myself up and out of the tub, wrapping myself in a towel and then once again in my robe.

"It's alright. Come in, Joyce."

"Are you feeling a bit better, ma'am?" She asked as she came in the door.

"Yes, thank you."

She nodded her head, "I'm going to put you back to bed in the guest room for now." I must have looked perplexed. "I'm changing the sheets in your room and besides, with your injuries, you should not sleep in close quarters. We wouldn't want you to get jostled during the night."

"Thank you for being so thoughtful," I said as she led me into the guest room, handing me my nightgown and underwear and turning around.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to eat ma'am? Some soup maybe or some tea?"

As I pulled the nightgown over my head I knew I had not appetite.

"No, I just want to sleep," I said as I pulled back the covers.

She was at my side then, taking the edge of the blankets from me and gesturing for me to get in. I obeyed as she tucked them in around me and placed a cold cloth on my cheek again.

"You get some rest ma'am, and you just holler if you need anything at all."

I nodded at her and watched her leave before closing my eyes, trying to hold back the horrors and nightmares at the edge of my mind.

* * *

"Where is she?" I heard Charles yell in the hall. My eyes shot open, but I couldn't see anything for the sun had set and the room was pitch black. I pulled the blankets up tighter around me and prayed he wouldn't find me.

I heard Joyce shushing him as her footsteps rushed up the stairs and into the hall.

"Mr. Evenson, please calm down! She's in the guest room."

I heard heavy footsteps approaching, but they were suddenly halted by, "Wait Mr. Charles!" I had never heard her call him Mr. Charles, but it was probably what she called him growing up, before he was the head of his own household. "I put her in there after she got a bath and I was changing your sheets. She was having nightmares and I haven't heard a peep from her since, so she must be sleeping well and you don't want to wake her when she is so much pain."

"Nightmares? About what?" He said with a tone of skepticism.

"Heaven knows? The fall maybe? All I know was that she was screaming to high heaven, but she seems to have calmed down."

There was a pause and I strained to listen, but all I could hear was the light scuffing of footsteps. Then Joyce began again a slightly sterner tone.

"Mrs. Evenson's been beat up enough don't you think? How about you leave her alone for the night, sir? Let her sleep. She is a bit traumatized as you can imagine."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"Not much, sir. I think she still may be slightly stunned from the fall, and I wouldn't blame her if she was. Did she fall down the steps face first?"

"No. I don't know. I didn't see it. I was in the living room when I heard her yell and tumble. By the time I ran out, she was knocked out at the bottom of the stairs."

"And you didn't call a doctor right away or take her to a hospital?"

"It was snowing. She just hit her head hard. What would a doctor have done for her? She's fine, right?"

I heard the door knob start turning, but again Joyce intervened.

"Wait, sir. She probably will be, but only time will tell. Just let her rest. Besides, what will taking her back to your bed do now? She doesn't need you rolling over and banging into her in her sleep, and do you want to get waken up to her yelling next to you?"

"Fine," he said petulantly as he let the doorknob go. "You can go for the evening then, Joyce. I'm just going to retire."

"Thank you, sir, and Mr. Charles…"she hesitated.

"What is it?" Charles snapped at her.

"Be nice to her," Joyce evenly said. "Your wife is a good hearted woman, who has had an unfortunate accident. She didn't deserve it. She cares for you and she wants to make you happy."

"Don't you dare tell me how to treat my wife!" I could hear the agitation in his voice.

"Sir! Lower your voice. Just remember I've been around your family a long time. I don't want to see history repeating itself."

"It is time for you to go home, Joyce. Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Evenson."

I heard Joyce walk down the hall and down the stairs, but Charles hadn't moved. Finally, I heard him walk into our room, forcefully closing the door behind him. I let out the air in my lungs that I had been holding in, and felt every rib as I did so. I tried to go back to sleep, but I kept thinking about what I heard Joyce say about being around the Evensons for a long time and history repeating itself. What could that history be?


	14. March 1919

Chapter 14 – March 1919

Dearest Esme,

I'm not going to beat around the bush. I haven't seen you since the day our men came home. It has been too long and I have important news that I don't wish to convey through a letter. Please come visit or I will come to you. Thomas said Charles told him that you haven't left the house since your accident. It has been two months and I am still annoyed that you wouldn't let me come help you. I wouldn't care if you were in a body cast, bleeding or burned. No matter how bad you looked I could have handled it.

Please come to tea on Wednesday. I really do need to see you.

Love,

Helen

I put down the letter from rereading it again and continued to get ready to leave the house for the first time in, as she correctly claimed, two months. As I put on just a touch of makeup I examined my face to make sure any visible skin was free from bruising.

I couldn't hide anymore. Helen needed me and for her I would pull myself together. God knows I missed her and it would be good to escape my house of horrors even if it was just for a few hours. I couldn't stay cooped up forever and even he knew that.

My mind shifted back to the morning two months ago when the rules were laid down.

"I know you're awake Mrs. Evenson," Charles said as he plopped down next to me on the guest room bed. As I opened my eyes, I could see the early morning light was shining across the bed. I looked up at his face that could have been so handsome if I didn't know the cruelty that hid behind those brown eyes. I didn't say anything. I just stared back, trying to radiate with my eyes the hurt, the pain and the hate. He ran his fingers over my swollen cheek and I winced away. "I am sorry for that Esme. Your face is too pretty. That was the liquor not me."

"And the rest of it?" I questioned through gritted teeth, painfully pulling myself up to sitting position, resting my head against the headboard.

"Yes, well I am sorry dear that I was a bit overzealous."

"Overzealous." I stated in disbelief, my voice shaking and rising. "Overzealous? That is what you called what you have done to me? Charles! Look at me! You beat me! I am in pain and I am damaged. You called your wife a whore!"

"Esme calm down," he said flatly, looking toward the window.

"I will not calm down! I welcomed you home! Lesser women would have left you after the way you treated me before you went away but I forgave and took you into my bed."

"It is my bed and you should have done no less," I heard the edge in his voice but I ignored it.

"I wanted to make you happy and give you a child and have a wonderful marriage and now…"

"Now what?" he was irritated as he cut me off. "We can still have all of that Esme and we will."

I shook my head looking down trying to keep myself in control. "No. We are husband and wife in name only. If you every touch me again I will leave you and I will go to the police."

I gasped as his hand grabbed my throat. "You will do nothing of the sort Mrs. Evenson," he hissed. "You are not the one laying down conditions in this marriage. That's my job." He released me and I tried to get up but he pinned my shoulders against the headboard. "This is how it is going to be. You are going to honor me as my wife. You are going to stay on my arm and sleep in my bed or at least lay in it. You will not leave me. You will not go to the police. Although I was inebriated the other night I do remember our conversation about the police. They can't help you Esme. They won't help you. They will just send you home to me and you know I won't be happy about it. So be a good girl dearest and do as you're told and come when I call you and I'll make you a deal…I'll do my best to restrain myself but if you force my hand I will try to keep the bruising to places where you can cover it up." I whimpered against my own will cursing myself for showing weakness and saw a cruel smile curl up his lip before he leaned forward and pressed them to my cheek. "Esme darling, you are mine and nothing is going to change that."

He released me then and stood up, pacing for a moment as he said, "I'm sorry I can't stay here with you but I do need to get to the bank. I will send notes off to your family letting them know about your accident and that you don't want any visitors. I'll let Joyce know that you are seeing no one in case one of your cousins decides to ignore your request. I expect you back in our bed and waiting for me by the time I get home tonight."

"Like this?" I said indicating my battered body.

"Esme, Esme, Esme," he said shaking his head. "I just got home from war and I have needs that you didn't fulfill last night and I don't have time for this morning. I'm sure you are fine down there and just be nice and it will be easier on you." I didn't know how I could be shocked by anything out his mouth at this point but I still was. "You'll be fine Esme and you'll be making me happy and isn't that what you said you wanted? I can see you're speechless for once," he laughed as he went to the door but he turned around, "Oh and one more thing Esme, if you ever leave me, I will track you down and I will kill you. Have a lovely day dear."

It wasn't until I heard the front door close that I started screaming.

The two months since that conversation had been a nightmare only broken by sleep where it seems my dreams were trying to protect me. Why I would have thought my dreams would have been as scary as my waking moments my mind used the time to escape often into my favorite stories. Alas I also had started talking in my sleep as well.

"Dreaming of Pemberley again last night Esme?" Charles said as he joined me at the breakfast table one morning a few weeks ago.

I almost dropped the tea cup in my hand.

"You were rambling on in your sleep again. I figured since you mentioned Darcy, Bennet, Bingley and Wickham that you must have been in the land of that snore, Pride and Prejudice."

I nervously chuckle, "I must have been. You know it is one of my favorites."

"I don't know why you love that Austen drivel. Curious though, I don't remember a Cullen in the book."

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I looked down as I felt the color draining from my face but luckily my mind was quick, "You must have heard Collins. Mr. Collins? Remember the clergyman, Elizabeth's cousin whose marriage proposal she rejected?"

"Ah yes, that's right. Well you must have been Charlotte in your dream then because you were saying yes to him."

"I am surprised you remember the details of a book you loathe so much Charles."

"I had an English literature class in college where I had to read several Austen books and compare and contrast the male and female main characters. There are a lot of similarities between them all. Her works are still ridiculous though."

"I think they are wonderful."

He snorted, "So I guess it will be Edward Ferrars or Mr. Knightley next."

"Maybe Colonel Brandon."

"So which character from your novels do I resemble dear?"

I cackled bitterly, feeling the stitch in my side where he had grabbed me the night before, "Oh darling, that's too easy. You are Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. You can't live up to Jane Austen's men. You make Willoughby and Wickham look like saints."

He jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room. I knew I would pay for the comment but without it I probably still would feel his wrath - I figured I would earn it with my own dig.

I gave in under his hands at night. It was pointless to fight him off. It just meant more struggle and more pain. Gentle caresses were rare and I had new bruises nearly every day to show for it. He was more careful though about where he inflicted pain. He made sure my injuries could be easily hidden.

Although the bruised that marred the left side of my face had faded completely weeks ago, I stayed inside, away from the sun I once adored and the family who I loved. I couldn't face the day.

I was afraid I would crack under others' watchful eyes but it had been so long now that even Charles was encouraging me to get out of the house.

"Have a good time with your cousin today," he kissed my forehead before leaving for work. "Don't cancel on her. She needs to see you."

I felt that in his mind he needed her to see me more than she actually did.

When Helen threw open the door she practically knocked me over with her hug. I took a deep breath that I hoped she wouldn't notice as her arms tightened around the marks covered by so much clothing.

"Oh Esme, come in! I am so happy you are here. I missed you!" She closed the front door taking my coat from me and grasping my hand as we walked into her parlor. "Laura is napping right now but wait until you see her. It has been so long that you'll barely recognize her."

I took a seat on the sofa she gestured to and looked at her face. She was brilliantly happy. The pain of her husband being away was wiped clean from when I last saw her. She was my Helen again.

"You look wonderful Helen. Having Thomas home is suiting you very very well." I felt genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

"I am. I felt like I woke up from a bad dream when he got home. Laura is a blessing. I cannot imagine my life without her and I would not trade her for the world. But with him here, the world seems brighter and happier, food tastes better, flowers are more fragrant." I chuckled a little, feeling some personal bitterness. "I know it sounds silly but you must be feeling the same thing too Esme," she said as she sat down next to me. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now. It was hard for a while. I was in bad shape and not easy on the eyes to say the least."

"I would have come but Charles said you didn't want visitors."

"I had Joyce to help me and besides I didn't want to taint your happy reunion with my misery. "

"What exactly happened? Charles just said you fell on the stairs."

"It was the night after he came home. It had snowed. The floor was wet in the foyer and I must have stepped in it. I lost my footing near the top and tumbled backwards. I hit my head as I fell and smacked my face as I landed. As I said it wasn't pretty and I was pretty banged up all over."

"But you are better now?"

"Fit as a fiddle."

"You look thin." How far could she past my charade?

"Between my injuries and the excitement of Charles being home, I guess I haven't been eating that much but I feel just fine."

She leaned over and hugged me, "Does that mean you two are happy?"

"Yes. We're good." I said with a smile.

"Oh I am happy for you. It makes it a little less hard to leave knowing that you are happy."

The alarm went off my head, "What do you mean, leave?"

She bit her lower lip for a moment and apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"Helen! What's going on? Where are you going?" I was desperate for her answer.

"This is why I needed to see you. Thomas got a terrific job offer from a man who was in his unit in the war but it is in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. "

"Wisconsin!"

"Yes dear. Wisconsin. It is a new automobile maker and they want Thomas to run their operations. He couldn't say no and I wouldn't let him if he tried. He's worried about taking me away from my family and you but I know you will understand that I go where he goes and if that means to Timbuktu I will be by his side. That is what love is and I told him you would understand."

My heart was breaking as I embraced her, "I will miss you so much. When do you leave?"

"He starts May 1 so we'll leave in mid-April."

"So we better make the most of our time together before then. Is there anything you need? Anything I can help with?"

"Just visit with me as much as you can before I go. My biggest regret is that I will not be here when you have your first little one after you did so much for me."

"Thank you Helen but if and when I finally am with child you know that I will telegram you immediately."

"No 'ifs' Esme. Only when. You know it will happen."

"I don't think we are ready."

"Not ready? Esme you have been ready to be a mother since you were twelve."

"You misunderstand my meaning. I just mean that he's just gotten home and then my accident…we are just starting to get reacquainted with each other. I'm not ready to share yet."

She laughed. "I know the feeling but believe me a baby is a good thing to share."

"I'm sure you're right but it will happen when God intends it to happen," which I was secretly hoping was never.

I tried to change the subject, "So how is your family?"

We chatted throughout the afternoon, completely loosing track of time. When Laura woke up from her nap, Helen brought her down and she took her place on my lap. Before we knew it Thomas was home.

"It is about time we got to see you Esme Evenson. Your smile has been missed around here," he said as he wrapped his arm around Helen and kissed her cheek.

"If you are home Thomas than I better be going because I'm sure my husband will be expecting me."

"Can't you stay for dinner?"

"No I really should be going," I said as I stood up and Helen went for my jacket.

"Well you will need to come over on a weekend then so we can catch up."

"I would like that. I want to hear all about this new job that you are moving Helen away from me for."

A frown crossed his face, "Are you angry with me Esme?"

"No, of course not. I want your success and I want Helen to be happy. She is happy with you so off to Madison you go."

"Milwaukee," he corrected.

"Whatever. It's Wisconsin," I laughed, hugging Helen as she handed me my coat and handed Laura back to her. "You're embracing each other and your happiness. You go where you need to go and please don't worry about me."

"Thank you Esme," Thomas said as he hugged me and the three of them walked me to the door. "Do you want me to drive you home Esme?"

"No, it's not far and it isn't that late. After being cooped up for so long it is nice to enjoy the fresh air."

"Be careful then."

"I will be. Thank you Helen for a lovely afternoon. Have a good night."

They waved good bye to me as I headed down the street, tears running down my cheeks. I was sad that I was losing my best friend but I was heartbroken for what could have mine. I wasn't jealous of Thomas and Helen's love, but I saw in them what I had dreamed of, what I always wanted but now could never have.

I walked quickly letting the tears flow but started wiping away the tears with the handkerchief from my pocket as I turned onto our block. There was no trace left as I bounded up the front stairs and opened the front door, closing it swiftly and quietly behind me.

As I turned around I saw I was not alone.

Charles stood up from his perch on the stairs and advanced toward me, "I hope you had fun with your cousin dear because you are late."


	15. April 1920

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading and especially to those who have submitted reviews. It is great to hear feedback. I love hearing your thoughts and am happy to answer any questions.**

**I'm sorry that it has taken me a little while to get this latest chapter to you but hopefully there won't be any more prolonged breaks in posting for a while. Enjoy. **

_Chapter 15 – April 1920_

I had stolen a car.

As I drove out into the countryside, I laughed bitterly to myself, remembering that Charles had taught me how to drive on these very roads when we were engaged. If my plan worked out, he may regret ever sticking me behind the wheel for his amusement.

I kicked the crank as Charles laughed heartily behind me. My fifth attempt to start his Model T had been as unsuccessful as the first. "Esme, you're giving up too easily. Just put your shoulder into it a bit more and turn for just a little bit longer. It's a half turn. You can do this."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes but pulled my sleeves up and leaned into it, turning the crank with all of my might for just a bit longer than I had before and finally the car started.

"I knew you could do it. Now that you started it, let's get you behind the wheel."

"Why are you making me do this?" I asked shaking my head as he took my hand to help me up into the driver's seat.

He shrugged as he climbed up into the passenger seat. "Did you have other plans this afternoon? Besides if you wreck it, then I get a new one."

"I appreciate your confidence in me."

"I'm not saying you are going to wreck it, but if you do I get a newer one," I frowned at him as he took my right hand and kissed the top of it. "Come on Esme, just think, once you get this down you will probably never know another woman who can do what you can do. Now, remember what I taught you about the pedals?"

I nodded my head again. "Yes."

"Alright repeat it back to me. What does the right one do?"

"Stops the car."

"Good and the middle one?"

"Reverse."

"And the tricky left one."

I sighed, "All the way down to put it into first gear, all the way out to change into second but only half way into neutral, which I will do when I try to stop it."

"Try to stop it?"

"Well I'm only going to try since you don't care if I crash it," I huffed.

He laughed, "You little troublemaker. Alright and what else?"

"Timing stalk on the left, throttle on the right. Down on the throttle to open it up and up to close it."

"You got it, now go."

"Go?" I asked surprised and slightly frightened at the prospect of trying to make this thing move.

"Yes, you got the mechanics down and I have run through it a hundred times when driving you. Go." I hesitated, "Esme, it is like a dance. You just need to find the grace in your movement and you need to practice."

I bit my lip in concentration and pumped my feet, opened it up and the car lurched forward but quickly banged to a stop. Charles was laughing, "Dancing Esme, and timing stalk."

"Shoot."

"Try again."

I tried again and this time the vehicle started slowly moving down the road. Within a few months I was an adequate driver although my opportunities to drive ended when we got married…until today.

Waking up this morning, hurting from last night's row, I resolved to take action. After a long winter trapped in this house, the roads were finally dry and the sun had appeared. I dressed quickly, putting on a long coat, grabbed a hat and my old driving gloves and walked down the back staircase.

"Mrs. Evenson, what are you all dressed up like that for?" Joyce asked as I appeared in the kitchen.

"I'm driving out to see my parents."

"Driving?" she contemplated with surprise. "I don't think Mr. Evenson would like that ma'am."

"I really don't care Joyce." I said with disdain as I grabbed the key from the hook by the door. "I'll try to be home before he's home from work."

Her mouth was hanging open as I closed the door and went out to the garage. I pulled the doors open, climbed up on the seat and started Charles' brand new car. He had wrecked the old one by driving it off the road into a creek on the outskirts of town last fall. He was inebriated and had gotten lost trying to get home from whatever shady place he was drinking at. He ended up driving right out of Columbus, fell asleep behind the wheel but woke up when the water hit his lap.

It never made the newspaper. A payout to the police kept them quiet as Charles always said it would. He bought the latest Model T and shelled out the extra money for the electric start so no cranking anymore.

I rolled out onto the street and headed out of town, rehearsing what I would say to my parents in my head - thinking about how I would tell them of the abuse, physical and mental, that had ruled our marriage. I would ask them to please let me leave him and come home. My mother would cry. My father would hold me and apologize for making me go through with this marriage to a man I never loved. He would go collect my things from the house of horrors, and make sure Charles never touched me or saw me ever again. A divorcee, I would end up an old maid but I could teach again and try to find comfort in that.

The road seemed longer than usual but finally I was parking in front of the house I grew up in that looked the same as it always had. Hearing the noise, my mother appeared in the doorway. She looked surprised and slightly appalled as I turned off the car and hopped off the seat, "Esme! What are you doing here and what are you doing driving?"

"Hello mother," I said as I climbed the two steps up the porch and hugged her, the tears immediately flowing, my throat choking on my sob.

She felt my body shaking and pushed me back to look at me with deep concern, "Esme, whatever is the matter?"

I couldn't speak, but she wrapped an arm around my waist and led me into the house. Millie and Will were standing in the living room both looking surprised to see me as well. My mother helped me to the sofa.

"Millie, get your sister a glass of water. Will, don't gawk, go to your room," both gawked at me, reminding me of their reaction when I fell out of a tree so many years ago. My mother clapped her hands together. "Millie! Water. Will. Room."

They sprung into action. A moment later my sister was pushing a glass into my hand and my mother waved her off to her room too. She turned her attention to me grabbing my hand, "Esme, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

I gasped for air to calm my breathing and finally I found the words, "Mother, I want to leave Charles."

Her face turned white, her eyes looked like they were going to burst out of her head as she whispered, "What did you say?"

"I want to leave Charles." I repeated. "He's not who we thought he was. Please let me come home."

She wouldn't look at me as she stumbled to her feet. "Mother, where are you going?" She went through to the kitchen. I heard her open the back door and start yelling, "Robert! Robert! I need you in the house now! Robert!"

"What is it?" I heard my father call in the distance from the direction of the barn.

"Esme drove herself here!"

"What?" I heard surprise in his voice that sounded slightly closer than it did a moment before. A minute later I heard the screen door close, and two sets of footsteps entering the living room.

"Esme what are doing here?"

"Esme, tell your father what you just told me. Robert, you better sit down for this one."

My father sat down next to me where my mother had been just a moment before. My mother sat in the chair on my other side. "Esme what is it?" he asked with concern over my red eyes.

"I want to leave Charles. I want to come home." I repeated, my voice shaking.

My father looked as shocked as my mother did. "How can you say such a thing?"

"It has taken me a long time to come to you. To ask this of you. Father, he abuses me and has since the day we were married."

"Esme, you must be mistaken. You've been married nearly three years."

"Mistaken? No, Father? Did you not hear me correctly? I just said Charles abuses me. He hurts me."

"Charles Evenson is a good man," my father insisted.

"No he's not," I gasped at my father's immediate defense of him.

"Esme, how can you accuse your own husband of such a thing?" My mother said, barely above a whisper.

"Because it is true!"

"You're not leaving your husband and bringing shame to this family."

I was shocked, "Did you not hear me? My husband, Charles Evenson, beats me."

"Well what did you do?" my father asked. I could hear uncertainty in his tone.

"Does it matter? I'm begging you to let me come home!"

"Yes Esme, answer your father, what did you do?" my mother nodded and stared at me.

I shook my head, "Why does it have to be that I did anything? Nothing."

My mother shook her head, "Esme, this is not a good time to be dramatic with your sister getting married soon."

I looked back and forth between their faces seeing the skepticism in their eyes. "I'm sorry if my timing is inconvenient but my biggest crime against Charles is not being in love with him and for that he makes me miserable."

"You must be overreacting Esme," my mother said with disbelief.

I felt hot tears again on my cheeks as I pulled up my right sleeve to show them the bruises covering my right arm. My mother cringed, my father chuckled. I looked at my father horrified and my mother did the same. "Aw Esme, so he's a little rough with you in the bedroom."

I pulled up my left sleeve. My father nodded.

"You think this is okay? And no it is not just in the bedroom," I spat out, hoping this was a nightmare.

"Esme, you can't leave your husband. You made a vow before God to be with him forever," my father declared as fact.

"Yes and he also vowed to love and cherish me and he almost exclusively has done nothing but cause me mental and physical pain."

"You are being ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" I said stomping my foot.

My mother interjected, "Esme, maybe if you could just get pregnant he would calm down with you?"

This was not turning out as I imagined. "So you think because I haven't had a baby yet, he had the right to hit me?"

"Esme, some bruises on your arms hardly is a beating," my father sullenly said.

"Do I have to show you the black and blue marks on my torso? On my thighs?" I was mortified.

"Esme Anne, don't talk to me about your thighs! You're my daughter."

"Yes and your daughter is sitting here begging you for your help!"

"What I meant Esme is a baby will calm him," said my mother. " It will bring serenity to your household. It will make you both feel settled."

Another desperate plea, the bile rising in my throat, "He rapes me."

"ENOUGH!" my father shouted, suddenly on his feet. "I will not let you continue to drag your husband's name through the mud Esme. He is your husband and you need to respect him and honor him. I will not allow you to use such sordid words when you are talking about him. When it comes to relations between a husband and wife that word doesn't exist. He has every right to you to do with you as he pleases and just because he is slightly rough with you, you can't be spouting off such horrible things about him. At the end of the day, he loves you."

"He treats me no better than a dog."

"He provides for you in that beautiful home. You want for nothing in his house."

"It's a house of horrors. He traps me in it."

"You're here aren't you? Does he know you took his automobile?"

"No, of course not. I'm trying to leave him; do you think I would tell him that before going?"

"Still a willful child," my mother hissed, shaking her head.

"When have I ever not done what you have asked of me mother?"

"When you started teaching in the first place! If you had just stayed at home, you could have been courted sooner, been married and have produced several children by now but no, you had to have your independence. You chose your path and even though you didn't take the one we wanted you still ended up with a husband to be proud of. A wealthy man from a good family, who you tried to reject and are still trying to reject today. I'm ashamed of your behavior and so is your father and I'm sure your grandmother, God rest her soul, is looking down wondering what she did wrong."

"No, grandmother would have seen right through him. She would have seen what a charlatan he is and would have never allowed this marriage to happen."

"Esme Anne Platt Evenson," my father quietly said, his tone even but deadly serious, "You will go home to your husband. You will apologize for taking his automobile without his permission. You will not leave him. You will honor, respect and love him in sickness and in health. You will be the best wife the man could have ever hoped for."

"You'll have children," my mother quickly inserted.

My father nodded, "Yes, you will happily raise a family with Charles. And I do not ever want to hear you speak a bad word about your husband ever again because so help me Esme, if I have to go have a discussion about you with your husband, there will be hell to pay."

"But…"

"No buts. This is the end of this discussion Esme."

I looked back and forth between my parents face hoping to see some shred of compassion hiding behind their expressions but their eyes were cold. Their decision was final. They would not take me back. I stood up and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.

"Esme, where are you going?" I heard my mother call after me.

I didn't stop. I walked quickly past the barn and then took off running the best I could in my impossible high heeled shoes. As I came upon my favorite patch of trees, I grabbed the first trunk and held onto it as I bent over to vomit. I stayed in that position for a few minutes, making sure the wave of nausea had passed before shuffling away into the trees. I collapsed on the ground, my back against a tree; I pulled my knees to my chest and began to bawl.

I was trapped. It took me well over a year to gather the courage to ask my parents to rescue me and they were going to let me drown. Charles was perfect in their eyes and it didn't matter what I said or showed them, they refused to see him any other way.

I rested my face against my knees continuing to weep. I don't know how long I sat there. I never heard anyone approaching and didn't realize anyone had until I felt an arm around my shoulder.

"I'm sorry Esme," Will said as I turned my tearstained face to see who had joined me. He took out a handkerchief and tried to wipe the tears away but they kept falling.

"What are you apologizing for?" I asked, pulling my own handkerchief out, continuing to dab my eyes.

"I'm sorry that our parents are not letting you come home."

"You heard us?"

He nodded, "Every word. Millie and I were listening from the top of the stairs."

"You believe me?"

"Of course I do. Esme, you don't lie and you don't exaggerate unless you are telling a story. I don't understand how mother and father could doubt you."

I sighed, "Because they think I ended up with the perfect husband and if things are going wrong in my marriage it must be my imperfections that are the problem."

"That's not what they said."

"Not in so many words but that is certainly the implication."

We sat in silence for a moment and then he took my hand and squeezed it and looked up, "Remember this tree?"

I looked up and recognized the arrangement of the branches even with the leaves just starting to sprout. I groaned, "Oh of all the trees in the woods I collapse against, I pick this troublesome one."

"There's no cat in its branches today so I think you are alright. Unless you are going to climb it for the heck of it but in those shoes you are guaranteed another trip to the doctor," he teased.

"Or the hospital, remember?" I certainly had not and for a moment a beautiful face filled my mind.

"That's right. Father was so mad."

"About having to go to the hospital in Columbus or about me falling out of the tree?"

"Both. He was also furious at Millie and I for goading you to do it. We got walloped good for that."

"It was my own fault."

"Even so, he wasn't going to punish you. You were in enough pain."

"My whole life changed direction that day."

"I know that now," he mumbled.

I looked at him curiously. "Know what now?"

"I know how if you hadn't fallen out of this tree you might have finished your school and maybe even gone onto college and you wouldn't have been saddled with Charles Evenson," I looked at him and could see he was completely sincere, "You would have found someone who deserves the best sister in the world."

I hugged him, not wanting to let go of the one person who seemed to truly care what happened to me - who had heard the truth and didn't dismiss it as me overreacting. He pulled back though, and looked me in the eyes, "He hurts you?"

I nodded yes and rolled my left sleeve up once again. I could see the fury burning in his eyes as he practically growled, "I'll kill him."

"You'll do no such thing."

"He can't do this to you."

"Apparently he can according to our father."

"It's not right. He should pay for doing this to you. It's wrong. You need to leave him."

"Yes it is wrong but if mother and father are not willing to see that, I have nowhere to go. Without their support, I would bring disgrace to our family if I left Charles."

"No. I'll come back into town with you. I'll protect you. We'll get your things and go west like you wanted to several years ago. You can teach again."

"And what will you do?"

"I'll be a miner."

I laughed at the thought of my brother covered in dirt from a day of mining but I shook my head quickly no. "No William. You are 15 years old. You are not throwing your life away for me."

"It is to help you," he frustratingly insisted.

"And I appreciate it so much and I love you for it but the absolute best thing you can do for me is finish your schooling," he went to protest but I put my hand up to silence him. "And when you marry make sure you are marrying for love and make sure she loves you in return. Never strike her or force yourself on her. Just cherish her every moment of every day. Don't ever put your wife through what I am going through. Promise me that William."

"Of course! I would never lay my hand on a woman, especially one that I love. I don't understand how anyone could."

"After all this time, I still don't understand how Charles can either." He cringes and I saw his hand ball into a fist. I placed my hand over it. "He's not worth it."

"So what are you going to do?"

I shrugged, "Continue to live in hell all the rest of my days I guess."

"Well one day when I am settled and have a place of my own, I'll come and take you away from him to live with me and my family and then, I'll punch him in the face."

I laughed, "I look forward to seeing that one day but for now don't worry about me."

"I wish I was old enough to help you," he grumbled, putting his hands in his pockets.

I kissed his forehead, "Stay young while you can Will. The innocence of youth doesn't last. Youth doesn't last. Don't wish your life away. You'll find it is much simpler at 15 than it is at 17 and God help you at 24."

He hugged me again and I glanced up to the sky and gasped, "It's getting late. I need to get going."

We jumped to our feet and began walking back to the house, Will holding my hand as he had so many times when he was a little boy. I was preparing in my mind the plan B I never thought I would have to use but I saw it as the only way to keep myself from ending up in bed for weeks in pain as my punishment for today. It was called self-preservation.

"Millie!" I called out as I walked in the back door, followed by Will. I ignored my mother in the kitchen. It would hurt too much to look at her at the moment but I could feel her eyes bearing down on me.

"What?" I heard her yell from upstairs. I headed up the narrow staircase and into her room. "Don't you knock?" she asked as I entered.

"I'm sorry but get packed quickly. I'm taking you to Columbus to stay with me for the weekend."

"Are you crazy?" she exclaimed. "After the argument you just had you expect me to go with you?"

I leaned in and hissed at her, "Do you want that expensive lace you were admiring in Lazarus department store for your veil or not? You either come with me or your veil will be from a bolt at Collin's General Store. I'm sure your new mother-in-law would love that."

She jumped into action, grabbing a suitcase from her closet running around the room like a tornado throwing items into it. "How long will I be with you?"

"George is coming into town to visit his parents on Sunday. I'll have him drive you back out."

She made a face but continued to pack and a few minutes later we were bounding down the stairs. "Mother, I'm taking Millie with me into town. She'll be back on Sunday," I called out as we headed toward the front door.

"Wait just one minute. You're leaving?" my mother asked as she charged into the room.

Will was already there reaching down to hug me."I love you sis."

"I love you too. Be good."

"Always am," he laughed. I patted him on the cheek and turned my attention to my mother.

"Yes I'm leaving since you won't let me stay. I have to go back that house, hopefully before he realizes I was gone."

"You're going home?"

"Where else am I suppose to go?" I looked at my mother, with one last pleading look. For a moment, just one brief moment, I thought she might relent but then she turned to Millie but spoke flatly to me.

"Why are you taking Millie? Who said she can go?"

"She needs a few things for her wedding. Her veil specifically from Lazarus."

"We can't afford that."

"It's my gift to her."

My mother scoffed, "She didn't ask permission to go."

"She's 18 mother and I'm her sister. She can come if she likes."

"Mother, please can I go?" Millie pleaded.

My mother's eyes bore into both of us but then she threw her hands up, "Fine, go."

I pushed open the door, letting Millie go ahead of me with her suitcase. I didn't look back as I walked to the car. I climbed up onto the seat and started it. I looked over at Millie to make sure she was settled. She was staring at me wide eyed but I nodded and she nodded back and we began bouncing down the road away from home.

We didn't speak, which was good since it gave me time to think. I thought again about everything my parents said, how I would answer to Charles, and sadly how I would use my sister as a shield.

"You weren't even planning to go back so why the sudden change of heart?" Millie finally asked.

"You want that veil and I want to spend some time with you before you are a married lady who doesn't have time for your big sister anymore."

The bitterness resonated in her tone, sounding just like my mother. "Like you ever have made time for me Esme."

"What are you talking about? I spend as much time with you as I can."

"Yes, but since you got married how often have you had me stay with you in Columbus? Just a handful of times because you were lonely when Charles was overseas but since he has been back you have not extended one invitation for me to stay with you until today."

"I thought you heard my conversation with mother and father."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"It has had everything to do with it! Do you think I wanted you in my house while he was treating me that way?"

She giggled, "Father said he was just rough to you in bed."

"It is much worse than that Millie. And it is certainly not amusing."

"Well if it is so bad, why are you taking me with you now?"

"I'm hoping if you are with me, he'll relent some. He realizes the importance of keeping up appearances."

"He has never been anything but nice to me."

"You're not married to him."

"Oh Esme, come off it. You are married to a wealthy handsome man with incredible prospects who loves you. I saw it in his eyes the day he married you. You live in a house I will only ever dream of in a city that I can only ever visit. Do you know what I would give to get what you have? I'm going to live my days surrounded by the same old people we have grown up with and nothing will ever change for me. I'll have babies and work in Collin's General Store until I die."

"Do you love Adam?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Does he love you?"

"Very much so. At least that is what he tells me."

"Could you ever imagine for a moment marrying someone that you didn't love?"

"No, of course not."

"Millie, I've never loved him."

"Why not? He's perfect."

"He's not perfect. He's the devil hiding behind a smile, a handsome face and an expensive suit."

"I guess I would take the devil then."

"Millie," I snapped. "I hope and pray that you never suffer what I suffer. That your marriage is happy and blessed because heaven knows that if it doesn't work out or Adam doesn't treat you well you will be trapped forever with him."

"I have no doubt in my mind that that would ever happen."

"I hope your faith is well placed and I hope you never see the Charles I know." Or maybe I did want her to see so I would have one witness.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm sure I won't."

We drove in silence the rest of the way. It was starting to get dark as we pulled onto my street. I tensed knowing he would be home by now. I pulled down the alley toward the garage, seeing the garage door was still open, just as I had left it. I somehow managed to back the vehicle in and as I cut the engine I heard my name roared from the direction of the house. I looked over at Millie's odd expression before hopping down I reached up to take Millie's suitcase from her as Charles rounded the corner into the garage at full speed, his hand already rising up.

"Charles dear, look who I have brought to stay with us this weekend," I brightly exclaimed, calling on my shield. His hand fell and the charm came on as he wrapped me into a hug with the raised arm, a natural smile flowing across his face that was furious only a moment before.

"My dear sister Millie, Adam Collin let you out of town for a couple days with the wedding just a month away? I'm surprised but so happy to see you." He was laying it on thick but no matter what I told my sister, she swallowed it up hook, line and sinker.

"Esme is going to take me Lazarus tomorrow so I can get my wedding veil."

"Well isn't that kind of her?" he stated, squeezing the flesh on my hip tightly, causing me to wince as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "But I was so worried about you, Esme. I came home and the car was gone and Joyce said you were driving out to your parents, what was I to think?"

"That I went to visit with my younger sister who is getting married in little more than a month."

"Ah and you couldn't have had me drive you out there instead of taking my car?"

"Charles, are we going to have this discussion now with Millie standing here? I'm sure Joyce has supper ready and Millie has had a long day. Let's go inside."

"Of course. My manners," he smiled as he let go of me and went over to help Millie down from the other side of the car and proceeded to give her a big hug.

I sighed as I walked across the lawn and in the back door. Joyce looked right at me for an instant with what looked like sadness in her eyes before she turned back to her work. "Welcome home ma'am. I can hear your sister's voice. I'll set another place and have food on the table in five minutes."

Charles and Millie came in behind me. I looked back to see him with his arm around her and both of them laughing over something.

The conversation at the dining table was a lot of silly nonsense between Charles and Millie. I chimed in every once in a while for the sake of my sister. Finally it was time to retreat upstairs. I made sure Millie was comfortable in the guest room before bidding her good night. I started to shuffle slowly down the hall and took a deep resolved breath, hoping my mother was right, as I pushed open our bedroom door.

I closed it behind me and before I could react was pinned against it. "How dare you take my car!"

"Hush dear. You don't want my sister to hear," I hissed.

"Ah, that is why she is here. You are smarter than I give you credit for Esme."

My eyes burned into his in defiance.

"Why did you go to your parents' home?"

"Just as I said, to check in on my soon to be married sister."

"And to talk to your parents about me?"

"Why does it always have to be about you?" This time his eyes bore into mine with a searching look before I finally gave in and spat out, "My parents think you are perfect Charles. They always have and seemingly always will."

He let me go then with a laugh, pushing me away from the wall into the center of the room. "I need to give your parents more credit as well." He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge his voice suddenly low and monotone. "But you know you were a very bad girl for taking my car and you must be punished."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and prayed for strength. When I opened them I reached down and unbuckled my shoes and kicked them off and then began pulling at the buttons of my dress. "What are you doing Esme?"

"Making this easier on me and you. I like this dress and prefer you keep your hands off it."

I dropped the dress to the floor and bent over, still feeling the pain from last night's abuse, to roll down my stockings and then stood up again to remove and discard the rest of my undergarments. Through quick glances in his direction I knew his eyes never left my body.

Naked, I approached him where he sat, and placed my hands first on his shoulders. "Whatever you do, remember my sister is right down the hall and she is a light sleeper. She also can't keep her mouth shut and loves to gossip."

He nodded, his hands sliding down the sides of my thin and visibly battered body. I reached down and pulled quickly at his belt, pulling it all the way out and tossing that weapon far across the room. His eyes were still focused on me. I reached down again to unfasten his pants as he released me to make quick work of his shirt, throwing it away. I tugged at his waistband and his underwear, pulling until his already erect penis popped out, causing him to sigh in satisfaction, rolling his head back. I swallowed hard as I began to make my move and hoped again that this would be worth it.

I placed my hands on his shoulders again as I placed one knee up on the bed, spreading my legs to straddle him, his head shot up and his hands grasped my waist, holding me still and stopping me from making any progress. "What do you think you are doing?" He was trying to sound in control but as his eyes roamed over me in this new position, I knew I had the slight upper hand. I bent my head and kissed near his ear where I whispered, "I'm punishing me so you don't have to. I'll do the work and suffer so you can relax." I flicked my tongue over his ear and felt him stiffen and release the vice grip on my waist. I slid onto him and he groaned his approval as I began to move on him.

I knew he was excited enough by this new development but in my mind I knew I wanted to ride this out quite literally as soon as possible. I ran my lips and my tongue over his chest trying to get him to release quickly but time seemed to be moving slowly.

Finally he breathlessly said, "Alright, get off," I tightened my thighs and started moving quicker and harder as I locked my arms around his back doing my damndest to make sure he released inside of me. "Esme!" he groaned, half-heartedly pushing at me now, already getting lost in the wave ruling his body. "Didn't you hear me? Get off of me."

"No Charles," I said in a throaty voice with all nervousness gone, "I want to feel you in me."

That was enough to push him over the edge and I felt him pumping inside my womb. Finished, he fell backwards onto the bed, his hand on my back, pulling me over with him, still buried in me.

"That was amazing Esme. Keep that up and your skin might loose a couple shades of purple but," he added as he slapped me hard across the buttock, "Next time get off of me when I tell you to."

I nodded, resting my head on his chest, hiding the tears from the stinging in my hair. I prayed once again that for all of my mother's misguidance that she was right about one thing, a baby would sooth him. Our baby would change him. For all of Charles faults and seeing as how he seemed determined to avoid causing a scene or doing anything that would alert my sister, I had to believe that he would do the same for his son or daughter.


	16. May 1920 – Part 1

**I apologize for the delay. Enjoy! Part 2 is coming very very soon.**

_Chapter 16 – May 1920 – Part 1_

I woke up with a start. Sunlight was blinding me. My head was pounding. My heart was racing.

As far as dreams go, the one I awoke from was literally a work of fiction….actually more than one work of fiction. A cacophony of stories filled with characters I loved but played by faces I knew. It was as if the words floated off the pages of my favorite stories, surrounding me in their descriptive elegance. I heard each and every word verbatim as the moments unfolded before me but the faces - the faces flashed between those I imagined with the books in my lap and those in my life who for the purposes of this vivid dream stepped into those roles and I had become the heroine.

"Esme, it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think. They're such warm-hearted people there, they say."

I stared at the tall dark form of Mr. Edward Rochester, an exact replica of how I imagined him when I repeatedly poured over Charlotte Bronte's novel. Instantly the words flowed from my tongue just as they would from the mouth of Jane Eyre. "It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter," he said brusquely. "A girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance," I argued, "and then the sea is a barrier-"

He cut me off, "From what, Esme?"

"From England and from Thornfield…and…" I couldn't say the words I was longing to say but he pressed me with one word.

"Well?"

"From YOU, sir," I cried out.

A moment later I was dancing in a long room. I looked at my partner, the face was familiar to me - it was Frank Churchill in the guise of my Charles. I looked across the room and saw the handsome Mr. Knightley, exactly as I envisioned him when I read Emma. I realized that I had to be standing in for Miss Woodhouse.

As I caught glances of Knightley as I danced, Emma's words and emotions ran through my mind. I was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley's not dancing than by anything else. There he was among the standers-by, where he ought not to be. He ought to be dancing, - not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers [of whist] were made up. So young he looked! He could not have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such that I felt must draw everybody's eyes and, excepting my own partner, there was not one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him."

In an instant the scene changed again and I was standing in a beautifully appointed room at Pemberley as Elizabeth Bennet. My cousin Sarah, today playing the role of my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, called me to look at a picture. I approached, and saw the likeness of Mr. Wickham, with Charles's face, suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantelpiece. My aunt asked me, smilingly, how I liked it.

The housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds, in the form of my Joyce, came forward, and told us it was the picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by him at his own expense. ``He is now gone into the army,'' she added, ``but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.''

Mrs. Gardiner looked at me with a smile, but I could not return it.

``And that,'' said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, ``is my master, and very like him. It was drawn about eight years ago, at the same time as the other.''

``I have heard much of your master's fine person,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture; ``it is a handsome face. But, Esme, you can tell us whether it is like or not.''

Mrs. Reynolds's respect for me seemed to increase on this intimation of me knowing her master.

``Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?''

My face flushed as I said, ``A little.''

``And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, Ma'am?''

``Yes, very handsome.''

``I am sure I know none so handsome, but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's favorite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He was very fond of them.''

I glanced at the miniature of Mr. Darcy and gasped when I saw the image was not of the Darcy I often imagined but of the blonde God that haunted many a dream.

The time, place and story change again. I was shaking my head, tears running down my face in the parlor at Barton cottage as I looked up to find Willoughby wearing Charles's likeness looking at me with worry and guilt marring his features.

"Esme, I…"

I heard the front door open and I ran bawling out of the parlor with a handkerchief at my eyes, and with barely a notice of my mother as Mrs. Dashwood and Helen as Elinor Dashwood, I ran upstairs. I was then watching the scene instead of being a player in it. Surprised and alarmed, they proceeded directly into the parlor where they found Willoughby, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his back towards them. He turned round on their coming in, and his countenance showed that he strongly partook of the emotion which overpowered me.

"Is anything the matter with her?" cried Mrs. Dashwood, as she entered. "Is she ill?"

"I hope not," he replied, trying to look cheerful and with a forced smile presently added, "It is I who may rather expect to be ill for I am now suffering under a very heavy disappointment! For I am unable to keep my engagement with you. I must leave for London immediately."

"This business will not detain you from us long, I hope," Mrs. Dashwood asked hopefully.

His face reddened as he replied, "You are very kind but I have no idea when I'll return to Devonshire. My visits are never repeated within a year."

"Willoughby, can you wait for an invitation here?"

His color increased, and, with his eyes fixed on the ground, he only replied, "You are too good."

Mrs. Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise. Elinor felt equal amazement. For a few moments everyone was silent. Mrs. Dashwood first spoke.

"I have only to add, my dear Willoughby, that at Barton cottage you will always be welcome."

"My engagements at present," replied Willoughby, confusedly, "are of such a nature that I dare not flatter myself-"

He stopped. Mrs. Dashwood was too much astonished to speak, and another pause succeeded. This was broken by Willoughby, who said, with a faint smile, "It is folly to linger in this manner. I will not torment myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy."

He then hastily took leave of them all, and left the room. They saw him step into his carriage, and in a minute it was out of sight.

In a flash I was in the story again, no longer observing it as an image like a play. It was night and only moonlight lit the massive rose garden before us. The "us" was me in an exquisite gold-embroidered ball gown and before me in the flesh this time was the blond doctor also dressed impeccably in the finest wear that the 1790s could offer to Sir Percy Blakeney. He was breathtaking.

"Nay, Madame," the Brit spoke with an air of disdain, "should you not seek the influence of your French friend, M. Chauvelin? His extends, if I mistake not, even as far as the Republican Government of France."

"I cannot ask him, Percy. . . ." I cried out. "Oh! I wish I dared to tell you. . .but. . .but. . .he has put a price on my brother's head, which. . ."

I would have given worlds if I had felt the courage then to tell him everything. . .how I had suffered and how my hand had been forced. But I dared not give way to that impulse. . .not now, when I was just beginning to feel that he still loved me, when I hoped that I could win him back. I dared not make another confession to him. After all, he might not understand; he might not sympathize with my struggles and temptation. His love still dormant might sleep the sleep of death.

Perhaps he divined what was passing in my mind. His whole attitude was one of intense longing, a veritable prayer for that confidence, which my foolish pride withheld from him.

When I remained silent he sighed, and said with marked coldness, "Faith, Madame, since it distresses you, we will not speak of it. As for your brother, I pray you have no fear. I pledge you my word that he shall be safe. Now, have I your permission to go? The hour is getting late, and. . ."

"You will at least accept my gratitude?" I said, as I drew quite close to him, and speaking with real tenderness, my eyes swimming in tears.

"It is too soon, Madame!" he said quietly. "I have done nothing as yet. The hour is late, and you must be fatigued. Your women will be waiting for you upstairs."

He stood aside to allow me to pass. I sighed, a quick sigh of disappointment. Perhaps, after all, I had been deceived just now. What I took to be the light of love in his eyes might only have been the passion of pride or, who knows, of hatred instead of love. I stood looking at him for a moment or two longer. He was again as rigid, as impassive, as before. The grey light of dawn was gradually yielding to the rosy light of the rising sun. Birds began to twitter. Nature awakened, smiling in happy response to the warmth of this glorious October morning. Only between these two hearts there lay a strong, impassable barrier, built up of pride on both sides, which neither of us cared to be the first to demolish.

He bent his tall figure in a low ceremonious bow, as I finally, with another bitter little sigh, began to mount the terrace steps.

The long train of my gown swept the dead leaves off the steps, making a faint harmonious sh--sh--sh as I glided up, with one hand resting on the balustrade, the rosy light of dawn making an aureole of gold round my hair, and causing the rubies on my head and arms to sparkle. I reached the tall glass doors which led into the house. I was watching this scene as much as I was a player in it. Before entering, I paused once again to look at him, hoping against hope to see his arms stretched out to me, and to hear his voice calling me back. But he had not moved. His massive figure looked the very personification of unbending pride, of fierce obstinacy.

Hot tears again surged to my eyes, as I would not let him see them, I turned quickly within, and ran as fast as I could up to my own rooms.

Had I but turned back then, and looked out once more on to the rose-lit garden, I would have seen that which would have made my own sufferings seem but light and easy to bear - a strong man, overwhelmed with his own passion and his own despair. Pride had given way at last, obstinacy was gone. The will was powerless. He was but a man madly, blindly, passionately in love, and as soon as my light footsteps had died away within the house, he knelt down upon the terrace steps, and in the very madness of his love he kissed one by one the places where my foot had trodden, and the stone balustrade there, where my hand had rested last.

I resolved to be outdoors in the sun as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to me. I lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery. There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, I had taken a few turns, when I saw what I knew to be Mr. Knightley, but now in the form of Dr. Cullen, passing through the garden door, and coming towards me. I knew I must be collected and calm. In half a minute we were together, greeting each other.

"You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprise you," I opened my mouth for the first time as Emma Woodhouse.

"Have I?" he said quietly as he looked at me. "Of what nature?"

"Oh! The best nature in the world: a wedding."

"If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that already."

"You probably have been less surprised than any of us, for you have had your suspicions. I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution. I wish I had attended to it, but," I said with a heavy sigh," I seem to have been doomed to blindness."

For a moment or two nothing was said, and I was unsuspicious of having excited any particular interest, till I found my arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Esme, time will heal the wound." My arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship - Indignation - Abominable scoundrel!" And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate."

I understood him, and, as soon as I could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration.

Mr. Rochester stood before me again but he like Mr. Knightley before him, had taken a different form.

"The wedding is to take place quietly, in the church down below yonder and then I shall waft you away at once to town. After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions nearer the sun - to French vineyards and Italian plains and she shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record. She shall taste, too, of the life of cities and she shall learn to value herself by just comparison with others."

"Shall I travel…and with you, sir?" I asked.

"You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples, at Florence, Venice, and Vienna, all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden by you. Wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step  
also. Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad with disgust, hate, and rage as my companions. Now I shall revisit it healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter."

I laughed at him as he said this. "I am not an angel," I asserted, "and I will not be one till I die. I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me for you will not get it, anymore than I shall get it of you, which I do not at all anticipate."

"What do you anticipate of me?" His curiosity peaked in his voice.

The sad reality hinted in my tone, "For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now, a very little while. Then you will turn cool, then you will be capricious, and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to please you. But when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like me again. LIKE me, I say, not LOVE me. I suppose your love will effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's ardor extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master."

"Distasteful! And like you again! I think I shall like you again, and yet again…and I will make you confess I do not only LIKE, but LOVE you with truth, fervor, constancy."

"Yet are you not capricious, sir?"

"To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts. When they open to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility,  
coarseness, and ill-temper: but to the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break, at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent, I am ever tender and true."

"Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such a one?"

"I love it now."

"But before me, if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your difficult standard?"

"I never met your likeness. Esme, you please me, and you master me - you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart, and, while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced, conquered, and the influence is sweeter than I can express, and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win. Why do you smile, Esme? What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of countenance mean?"

Elinor opening the door, saw I was stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, Willoughby's letter in my hand, and two or three others laying by me. Elinor drew near, but without saying a word and seating herself on the bed, took my hand, kissed it affectionately several times. She then gave way to a burst of tears, which at first was scarcely less violent than my own. Though unable to speak, I felt all the tenderness of this behavior; and, after some time thus spent in joint affliction, I put all the letters into Elinor's hands, and then covering my face with my handkerchief, almost screamed with agony. Elinor, who knew that such grief, shocking as it was to witness it, must have its course, watched by her till this excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself, and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter.

``But you see that Jane,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, ``does not think so ill of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt.''

``Of whom does Jane ever think ill?" Helen's face flashed across my mind as I spoke these words once again embodying Elizabeth Bennet, " And who is there, whatever might be their former conduct, that she would believe capable of such an attempt, till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every sense of the word. That he has neither integrity nor honor. That he is as false and deceitful, as he is insinuating.''

``And do you really know all this?'' cried Mrs. Gardiner.

``I do, indeed,'' I replied. ``I told you the other day, of his infamous behavior to Mr. Darcy; and you, yourself, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other circumstances which I am not at liberty…which it is not worthwhile to relate, but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He must know that she was amiable and unpretending as we have found her.''

``But does Lydia know nothing of this?" As Mrs. Gardiner spoke this, Lydia's face appeared in my mind as my own sister Millie. "Can she be ignorant of what you and Jane seem so well to understand?''

``Oh, yes! -- that, that is the worst of all."

Elinor would not speak. Willoughby repeated the enquiry with yet greater eagerness.

"For God's sake tell me, is your sister out of danger, or is she not?"

"We hope she is."

He rose up, and walked across the room.

He turned now to face me and a new story inserted itself. I was in bed and I was sick…I was dying. Catherine Earnshaw was dying and I had rightfully blamed Heathcliff for my suffering but Charles's face disagreed.

"You teach me how cruel you've been - cruel and false. Why do you despise me? Why did you betray your own heart, Esme? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry, and wring out my kisses and tears; they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - then what right had you to leave me? What right? Answer me! For the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery, and degradation and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart. You have broken it and in breaking it, you have broken mine."

"I have no doubt of their being happy together," I said. I was once again outside walking with Mr. Knightley; "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."

"He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. "So early in life, at three and twenty, a period when, if a man chooses a wife, he generally chooses ill. At three and twenty to have drawn such a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has before him! Assured of the love of such a woman; everything in his favor, equality of situation - I mean, as far as regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one - and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants. A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals. Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favorite of fortune. Everything turns out for his good. He meets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent treatment and had he and all his family sought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her superior. His aunt is in the way. His aunt dies. He has only to speak. His friends are eager to promote his happiness. He has used everybody ill and they are all delighted to forgive him. He is a fortunate man indeed!"

"You speak as if you envied him."

"And I do envy him, Esme. In one respect he is the object of my envy."

I could say no more, fearing what subject might arise but Mr. Knightley startled me by saying, "You will not ask me what is the point of envy. You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity. You are wise -- but I cannot be wise. Esme, I must tell what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment."

"Oh! Then, don't speak it, don't speak it," I eagerly cried. "Take a little time, consider, do not commit yourself."

"Thank you," said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not another syllable followed.

I could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in me - perhaps to consult me. Cost me what it would, I would listen. We had reached the house.

"You are going in, I suppose," said he.

"No," I replied, "I should like to take another turn. I stopped you ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you pain. But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to ask my opinion of anything that you may have in contemplation -- as a friend, indeed, you may command me. I will hear whatever you like. I will tell you exactly what I think."

"As a friend!" repeated Mr. Knightley. "Esme, that I fear is a word - No, I have no wish - Stay, yes, why should I hesitate? I have gone too far already for concealment. Esme, I accept your offer, extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as a friend. Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?"

He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression of his eyes overpowered her.

"My dearest Esme," said he, "for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Esme -- tell me at once. Say 'No,' if it is to be said." I could really say nothing. "You are silent," he cried, with great animation; "absolutely silent! At present I ask no more."

I was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling.

"I cannot make speeches, Esme," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Esme, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."

"You," Mr. Rochester looked down at me and spoke with such wonder in his voice, "you strange, you almost unearthly thing! I love as my own flesh. You, poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are, I entreat to accept me as a husband."

"What, me!" I exclaimed, "Me who have not a friend in the world but you, if you are my friend, not a shilling but what you have given me?"

"You, Esme, I must have you for my own, entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."

"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face. Turn to the moonlight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to read your countenance. Turn!"

"There! You will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on but make haste, for I suffer."

His face was very much agitated, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes.

"Oh, Esme, you torture me!" he exclaimed. "With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!"

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion and they cannot torture."

"Gratitude!" he ejaculated; and added wildly, "Esme accept me quickly. Say, 'Edward.' Give me my name, 'Edward, I will marry you.'"

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?"

"I do and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."

"Then, sir, I will marry you."

"'Edward' my little wife!"

"Dear Edward!"

"Come to me--come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, "Make my happiness. I will make yours."

Elinor hovered in the doorway, I, once again Marianne, was in bed, my eyes closed. Beside me, clutching my hand, his head bowed but his eyes intently on my face sat Colonel Brandon, the man with the golden hair.

Heathcliff was crying out with passion and grief, "Esme Evenson, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you - haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe - I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

The scene was calm again as Knightley teased me, "'Mr. Knightley.' You always called me, 'Mr. Knightley;' and, from habit, it has not so very formal a sound. And yet it is formal. I want you to call me something else, but I do not know what."

"I remember once calling you 'George,' in one of my amiable fits, about ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as you made no objection, I never did it again."

"And cannot you call me 'George' now?"

"Impossible! I never can call you anything but 'Dr. Cullen.' I will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by calling you Dr. C. But I will promise," I added presently, laughing and blushing, "I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where; -in the building in which N. takes M. for better, for worse."

Mr. Darcy stood before me anguished, "Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son, I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves - my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable - allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Esme! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased. My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong."

Mrs. Dashwood appeared ready to cry under the weight of her happiness as she admitted to Elinor that, "Colonel Brandon opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we traveled. It came out quite unawares, quite undesignedly. I, you may well believe, could talk of nothing but my child and he could not conceal his distress. I saw that it equaled my own; and he, perhaps thinking that mere friendship, as the world now goes, would not justify so warm a sympathy; or rather, not thinking at all, I suppose, giving way to irresistible feelings, made me acquainted with his earnest, tender, constant, affection for Esme. He has loved her, my Elinor, ever since the first moment of seeing her."

Here, however, Elinor perceived, not the language, not the professions of Colonel Brandon, but the natural embellishments of her mother's active fancy, which fashioned everything delightful to her as it chose.

"His regard for her, infinitely surpassing anything that Willoughby ever felt or feigned, as much more warm, as more sincere or constant, whichever we are to call it, has subsisted through all the knowledge of dear Esme's unhappy prepossession for that worthless young man! And without selfishness, without encouraging a hope, he could have seen her happy with another. Such a noble mind! Such openness! Such sincerity! No one can be deceived in him."

"Colonel Brandon's character," said Elinor, "as an excellent man, is well established."

"I know it is," replied her mother, seriously, "or, after such a warning, I should be the last to encourage such affection, or even to be pleased by it. But his coming for me, as he did, with such active, such ready friendship, is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of men."

"His character, however," answered Elinor, "does not rest on one act of kindness, to which his affection for Esme, were humanity out of the case, would have prompted him. He has been long and intimately known by our friends. They equally love and respect him; and even my own knowledge of him, though lately acquired, is very considerable; and so highly do I value and esteem him, that if Esme can be happy with him, I shall be as ready as yourself to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the world. What answer did you give him? Did you allow him to hope?"

"Oh, my love! I could not then talk of hope to him or to myself. Esme might, at that moment, be dying. But he did not ask for hope, or encouragement. His was an involuntary confidence, an irrepressible effusion to a soothing friend, not an application to a parent. Yet, after a time, I did say, for, at first, I was quite overcome, that if she lived, as I trusted she might, my greatest happiness would lie in promoting their marriage; and since our arrival, since our delightful security, I have repeated it to him more fully, have given him every encouragement in my power. Time, a very little time, I tell him, will do every thing; Esme's heart is not to be wasted for ever on such a man as Willoughby. His own merits must soon secure it."

"To judge from the Colonel's spirits, however, you have not yet made him equally sanguine."

"No. He thinks Esme's affection too deeply rooted for any change in it under a great length of time; and even supposing her heart again free, is too diffident of himself to believe, that with such a difference of age and disposition he could ever attach her. There, however, he is quite mistaken. His age is only so much beyond hers as to be an advantage, as to make his character and principles fixed; and his disposition, I am well convinced, is exactly the very one to make your sister happy. And his person, his manners, too, are all in his favor. My partiality does not blind me: he certainly is not so handsome as Willoughby; but, at the same time, there is something much more pleasing in his countenance. There was always a something, if you remember, in Willoughby's eyes at times, which I did not like."

Elinor could not remember it; but her mother, without waiting for her assent, continued:

"And his manners, the Colonel's manners are not only more pleasing to me than Willoughby's ever were, but they are of a kind I well know to be more solidly attaching to Esme. Their gentleness, their genuine attention to other people, and their manly unstudied simplicity, is much more accordant with her real disposition than the liveliness, often artificial, and often ill-timed of the other. I am very sure myself, that had Willoughby turned out as really amiable, as he has proved himself the contrary, Esme would yet never have been so happy with him as she will be with Colonel Brandon."

``You are joking, Esme," Jane Bennet with Helen's face exclaimed, "This cannot be! Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.''

``This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.''

Jane looked at her doubtingly. ``Oh, Esme! It cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.''

``You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.''

``Good Heaven! Can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,'' cried Jane. ``My dear, dear Esme, I would, I do congratulate you, but are you certain? Forgive the question, are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?''

``There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world."

"You speak of friends, Esme?" Edward Rochester asked me.

"Yes, of friends," I answered rather hesitatingly: for I knew I meant more than friends, but could not tell what other word to employ. He helped me.

"Ah! Esme. But I want a wife."

"Do you, sir?"

"Yes, is it news to you?"

"Of course. You said nothing about it before."

"Is it unwelcome news?"

"That depends on circumstances, sir - on your choice."

"Which you shall make for me, Esme. I will abide by your decision."

"Choose then, sir - HER WHO LOVES YOU BEST."

"I will at least choose - HER I LOVE BEST. Esme, will you marry me?"

"Yes, sir."

"A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand?"

"Yes, sir."

"A crippled man, twenty years older than you, whom you will have to wait on?"

"Yes, sir."

"Truly, Esme?"

"Most truly, sir."

"Oh! My darling! God bless you and reward you!"

"Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life, if ever I thought a good thought, if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer, if ever I wished a righteous wish, I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me, to be as happy as I can be on earth."

"Because you delight in sacrifice."

"Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value? To press my lips to what I love? To repose on what I trust? Is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice."

"And to bear with my infirmities, Esme…to overlook my deficiencies."

"Which are none, sir, to me. I love you better now, when I can really be useful to you, than I did in your state of proud independence, when you disdained every part but that of the giver and protector."

"Hitherto I have hated to be helped - to be led; henceforth, I feel I shall hate it no more. I did not like to put my hand into a hireling's, but it is pleasant to feel it circled by Esme's little fingers. I preferred utter loneliness to the constant attendance of servants; but Esme's soft ministry will be a perpetual joy. Esme  
suits me but do I suit her?"

"To the finest fiber of my nature, sir."

"The case being so, we have nothing in the world to wait for: we must be married instantly."

He looked and spoke with eagerness: his old impetuosity was rising.

"We must become one flesh without any delay, Esme: there is but the license to get--then we marry."

My spirits were rising to playfulness again. I wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with me. ``How could you begin?'' I asked. ``I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?''

``I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.''

``My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners - my behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?''

``For the liveliness of your mind, I did.''

``You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused, and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There -- I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me - but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.''

I was no longer standing in for Miss Bennet but was again filling for Jane Eyre, now Rochester as I lived the final section of the novel.

I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest - blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character - perfect concord is the result.

Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union; perhaps it was that circumstance that drew us so very near—that knit us so very close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand. Literally, I was, what he often called me, the apple of his eye. He saw nature - he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river, cloud, sunbeam - of the landscape before us; of the weather round us - and impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most exquisite, even though sad - because he claimed these services without painful shame or damping humiliation. He loved me so truly, that he knew no reluctance in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.

He cannot now see very distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his way without being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him--the earth no longer a void. When his first- born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were - large, brilliant, and...golden? I was looking down at the beautiful fair haired baby I was placing into Mr. Rochester's, played literally by the man of my dreams, arms and saw that the baby's eyes were shockingly bright and golden and I felt my heart ache with the love I felt for him.

On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, looked directly at me and acknowledged that "God had tempered judgment with mercy."

**NOTE: Thank you to Jane Austen, ****Baroness Emmuska Orczy, Emily Brontë and Charlotte Brontë for their words and their stories that present Esme with such amazing dreams. **


	17. May 1920 – Part 2

_Chapter 17 - __May 1920 – Part 2_

My eyes had shot opened. The image of that man with the child burned on them. Every moment of the dream was so vivid that I expected my old bedroom to disappear into Thornfield, Richmond, Pemberley or Barton Cottage but my mother's voice broke through it all and she wasn't Mrs. Dashwood anymore, she was Mrs. Platt.

"Esme!" She was knocking on the door. "Esme! Are you awake?"

I tried to sit up but the pounding in my head was not just a knock at the door and my head fell back to the pillow.

"Esme! Millie needs you."

"I'm awake!" I called out, squeezing my eyes closed trying to will away the pain and at the same time block out the sunlight. I was trying desperately to pull myself together as I remembered the significance of today but the headache wasn't going anywhere. I forced myself up to sit on the edge of the bed and felt a wave of nausea radiate from my head to my stomach. I sat there willing it back down. I prayed that my mother had some aspirin.

I was here because of an obligation and because no matter how rocky things now were, I still loved my family. The relationship between my parents and I has been tenuous since the day I drove out and begged them to let me come home permanently. While it has not been mentioned again, my mother and father have been treating me with disdain and little respect. I've lost value in their eyes. I've disappointed them. I feared that our relationship is in a way permanently broken.

Millie, today's blushing bride, was a different story but just as bad. After spending the weekend after the incident at my home, with my husband charming her like a snake, she too was convinced that I was over exaggerating. Or in her own words at the breakfast table that Sunday morning, before Charles made his way downstairs to join us, "Esme, I think you are being a spoiled brat," she hissed at me quietly so neither Joyce or Charles could hear if they were close by. "You have all this and Charles is wonderful."

I was tired and wasn't in the mood to argue but I pointed out, "with you but he treats his wife quite differently behind closed doors."

"I can't believe that," as she said as she stubbornly crossed her arms.

My mouth fell open for a moment, "Millie! Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Well," she sniffed with a sudden air and almost a hint of superiority, "I think you are just unhappy because you haven't gotten pregnant yet and you are miserable and are just blaming him."

I stared at her for a moment but just as I started to pull up my sleeve to show her the welt I gained the night before, Charles entered the room and the conversation ended.

The bit I have seen her since April she has treated me with disdain and any appeal for her to try to understand my situation has fallen on deaf years. With that attitude, I was surprised when she knocked on my bedroom door last night.

"Esme, can I come in?" I heard her call through the door.

I had arrived at the farm three days before to help with her wedding preparations and was exhausted after a day of chores and activities. My mother and sister ordered me around like a servant and I just did as I was told. My family had made up their mind and no matter what I did or the damage I showed them, I was not the same person in their eyes. I had failed them.

I had just gotten ready for bed and was about to get in it when I heard Millie at the door.

"Yes, come in dear."

Millie, already in her nightgown, opened the door timidly but when she saw me rushed in, and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Why are you still up Millie?"

"I couldn't sleep."

I sat down on the bed and patted the edge of the bed for her to join me. "Are you nervous about the big day?"

She collapsed with a dramatic sigh on the bed, "No, I know it is the right choice."

"Then you're excited," I chuckled, trying to keep the mood light as to not stress her any more than she was.

She smiled now, "I am but…"

"What is it?"

"What is tomorrow night going to be like?" she asked eagerly.

"Oh!" Suddenly she was my little sister again, turning to her big sister for knowledge that I didn't feel I could give. I thought for a moment before saying, "Have you spoken to mother?"

"Yes," she grumbled. "She wasn't very helpful. She said just let Adam lead the way. That is not particularly helpful. She changed the subject before I could ask anymore."

"Millie," the sadness audible in my voice, "I wish I could give you some great sisterly advice but although you refuse to believe it, I have never had the best relations with my husband."

"Esme!" her voice rising, "Just tell me what it is like!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned away from her to compose myself before I began to speak again. "I have heard from our cousins that just the first time is painful but after that it is a wonderful experience and expression of love."

"Was it not painful for you the first time?"

She didn't understand my meaning when I excluded myself from my response. "No it was extremely painful."

"Is it better now?"

I was shaking my head. "Millie! You have refused to believe anything about my relationship with Charles so why do you want to hear about my experience now? So you can accuse me of being a liar or just being an over exaggerating spoiled brat?"

A grimace ruled her face as she sat silently, composing her response. Finally, "Fine Esme. Don't help me." She stood up and started for the door.

"Millie, wait," I said, filled with regret as I rose to my feet. She paused but didn't turn around. "I'm sorry."

She snapped around to look at me, her eyes narrow and unforgiving, "Forget it. You're right Esme. You don't love Charles. You never did. So why am I asking you for advice? My experience will be nothing like yours because I will appreciate and love my husband. Keep your misery."

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door, not caring who she woke. I sat there stunned and heartbroken asking God where had I gone so wrong in this life that this is the path the fates had led me down? Knowing that there was nothing I could do for my sister at this point than be there tomorrow, I went to bed truly miserable and with a slight headache. How such melancholy could manifest itself into the dream I just woke from seemed impossible.

I grabbed my robe and stumbled out into the kitchen and into a chair.

"Esme you look horrible. What's wrong?" My mother asked she put a plate of food in front in me. The smell wasn't helping and I pushed it away, resting my elbows in the table and placing my forehead in my palms.

"I'm not feeling well. Do you have any aspirin?"

She gasped, "Are you finally pregnant?"

My head shot up so fast that my hands immediately flew to it, trying to keep my brain from pushing its way out. "Mother," I groaned, "No. I just have a headache."

"Are you sure?" I heard the pleading in her question.

"Yes, I am positive."

She sighed and went to the cabinet and soon placed two little pills by me. "Eat something with those Esme."

I choked down a bit of eggs and swallowed the pills, praying for quick relief. I plastered a smile on my face for I would not be the one to upset Millie's day.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Millie was confident, happy and beautiful. When it came to looks, Millie and I were different as night and day. I was without a doubt my mother's child as it was often remarked upon that I was the spitting image of my Grandmother Barstow. Millie, on the other hand, was of the Platt side and often I caught glimmers of my cousins' faces in her smile and her eyes. Her dark brown hair, blue eyes, and warmer skin tone were so unlike mine. She was statuesque; her height gave her several inches on me and where my body curved hers was straight. I was thinking our differences went far beyond our looks as she beamed at Adam. As they said their vows, surprisingly Charles found my hand and slipped it into his.

Although the pain had dulled slightly, my head was still throbbing when we returned to my family's home where the reception was being held outside. It was a much different affair than my own, an elegant affair in a garden in Columbus with catered food and hired musicians. This is what I would have preferred – a family and a community affair. With two native children getting married, the whole town played a part. The women had been cooking up a storm with my mother for days. The men had set up the dance floor, tables and chairs and several would provide the music for this occasion. I, along with Millie's best friend/maid of honor Carol and the bridesmaids had helped decorate late yesterday afternoon. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I looked around thinking this is exactly me and my reception was completely Millie's style.

I went to check in with my mother to see if she needed anything but our neighbors seemed to have everything under control and shooed both of us out of the kitchen. The reception was already at a full swing and my mother made a beeline for my father. I looked around and saw my husband laughing with some of the local boys, in fact some of my former classmates. He was not looking for me.

I retreated to a table in the far corner of the lawn and sat, resting my aching head in my hands again.

"Esme you look terrible!"

"And you have looked terrible all day," the worry obvious in Helen's voice as she sat down beside me with Grace taking a seat as well.

"I looked over at you and thought you were either going to faint or get sick," worried Grace.

"Do you even remember the ceremony? You looked like your mind was in another world."

"Please stop!" I groaned, "You're hurting my head even more than it already is."

"What is it? What's wrong?" Grace asked eagerly and very concerned.

For the second time today, I heard a gasp of incorrect realization followed by the same question, "Esme are you pregnant?"

"No, I'm not pregnant," I flatly told Helen.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"How can you be positive?"

"Because just last week my body indicated to me that I wasn't so even if I was impregnated this week, that would be quite an acceleration to illness from it within days."

"I'm sorry dear."

"Don't be." I looked at Helen and placed my hand over hers, "I'm just so happy you are here." Helen and Thomas along with Laura had made the long trip from Wisconsin and I was so grateful to see them. It had been too long and if the ceremony had been a few months later, they would not have been able to make it. Helen was just beginning to show with their second.

"I'm happy we could make it for your sake. You just look so thin Esme and today, so ill. I'm worried about you."

I ignored the thin remark. Food had little appeal to me anymore. I ate because I had to and usually at Joyce's urging but my appetite barely existed. "I just woke up from a very vivid dream this morning with this throbbing headache and it has been making me feel ill all day." I regretted mentioning the dream as soon as I finished the sentence.

"What was the dream about?"

"It was nothing."

"You just said it was vivid and it apparently took you to another world during your own sister's wedding. It must have been good," joked Grace.

I looked back and forth at my eager cousins' faces – the women who were more sisters to me than Millie ever was and ever will be. I groaned again, "I shouldn't have even mentioned it."

"Yes, but you did so talk!" Grace laughed and ordered at the same time.

"Have you ever had a dream where you were a character in a book?"

"What do you mean?" asked Helen.

"Like you were picked up and placed in a role and every line spoken to you and that you spoke was the words of the character you are playing?"

"Like a play?"

"Kind of," I nodded, "but it was so real."

"Esme, who were you?"

"I wasn't one. I was multiple heroines from some of our favorite novels but it kept bouncing back and forth from story to story."

The two looked at me eagerly reminding me of their children waiting for me to tell a story.

"It started and I was Jane Eyre talking with Mr. Rochester."

Helen's nose wrinkle, "Ew, talking with Edward Rochester, what a horrible thought."

"What's wrong with Edward Rochester?"

"He lies to Jane. He abandons his wife. When he gets hurt it is what he deserves."

I immediately jumped to the defense of a character that I related with so much more than the heroine in this novel, "Mr. Rochester was forced by his family to marry a women whom he didn't love who turned out to not be the person whom he was promised she would be. He only lied to try to find some happiness in his life when he finally found someone true and honest whom he adored. Yes it was unfair to Jane but Bertha tried to destroy him repeatedly and Jane was his hope for a future. When he got hurt it was devastating but in the end, yes he got what he deserved, a long happy life with Jane."

Helen was at a loss for words. Maybe the dream discussion was over but Grace piped in, my passion exciting her to want to hear more.

"Emma."

"I find no faults with Mr. Knightley," Helen chimed in.

I laughed, remembering the blond playing him, "Neither do I."

"What part of the story?"

"There were several in the dream. I as Miss Woodhouse dancing with Frank Churchill as I watched Knightley across the room; talking about Frank and Jane getting married and he admitting that he was enviously of Frank, and the discussion about calling him Mr. Knightley versus George."

"I love that part," Helen sighed.

"I do too," I agreed, "and it is glorious when he is standing in front of you."

We all giggled, I felt my headache easing.

"What else?"

"Pride and Prejudice."

We all looked at each other and said aloud, "Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, I embodied Elizabeth Bennet."

"Esme, this sounds like the best dream ever," said an excited Grace. "How could it have caused you such a headache?"

"I was wondering the same thing!" I agreed.

"So what part of the story?"

"Lizzy's first visit to Pemberley; denying the strength of Wickham's character to her aunt, Darcy laying out his faults to her and her getting him to admit when he knew he loved her; and her telling Jane that she was engaged to him to Jane's bewilderment at first."

"That is an interesting collection. I wonder how the Wickham situation fell in there." Grace said aloud, almost to herself. As I remembered Charles face on the Wickham miniature I knew exactly how his dishonesty earned him a place in my dream.

"Any more?" Helen asked.

"Sense and Sensibility."

"Ah, the role of Miss Elinor Dashwood pining for Edward Ferrars will be played by Mrs. Esme Evenson," smiled Helen.

"Ah but you are wrong. Surprising even me, I was Marianne."

"That is surprising. I mean in real life you are much more of Elinor's character than Marianne."

"I know and I was bawling over Willoughby repeatedly. Then I was sick and Colonel Brandon was watching over me and finally Mrs. Dashwood was confessing to Elinor how much Brandon loved Marianne."

"Who else?" Grace was almost bouncing.

"Marguerite St. Just."

"I love The Scarlet Pimpernel," affirmed Helen.

"I just adore Percy Blakeney," sighed Grace. "Was he as tall, blond and beautiful as you imagined when you read the novel?"

I thought of my ghost, splendidly dressed, the moonlight shining off his face. "He was the most amazing creature I had ever seen," the wonderment obvious in my voice.

The ladies giggled. Grace of course said, "Oh Esme, you sound like you are in love with a fictional character."

"He was so real in my mind."

"What sections."

"Just one. The end of the Richmond chapter."

"Did he kiss each step?"Helen asked, as doe eyed as a school girl.

I nodded my head and they both burst into squeals. People nearby turned to look at us and I immediately shushed them.

"What else?"

I paused remembering the last novel – the most distributing parts, truly the only really disturbing parts of this dream. "Heathcliff."

"Wuthering Heights?" Helen inquired with skepticism in his voice.

I nodded again.

"That's not quite as happy as Jane Austen or even Jane Eyre."

I shook my head, frowning as I remembered.

"Esme, what was it?"

"Catherine dying and Heathcliff cursing her and then her already gone and he calling on her to haunt him."

They looked back and forth at each other, the merriment gone but Grace as usual quickly recovered, "Well luckily it was just a silly dream Esme. Nothing to take to heart."

"You never said what happened with Rochester?" Helen chimed in.

"And so I married him gentle reader. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh."

"Did he continue blind the first ten years of your marriage?"

I laughed, "Yes he did."

"And when you placed your first born in his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were - large, brilliant, and black?"

I blanched, nodding as I remembered the variation that happened in the dream and whispered out the lines from the novel, "On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy."

Helen squeezed my hand, "Esme, are you alright? You just turned so pale."

"I'm fine. Really. I just need some water."

Grace was out of her chair and back with a glass of water in a flash. I sipped it, trying to wash the memories away with the party going on us around us. Slowly, I recovered and the subject was changed, the dream forgotten…at least for my cousins.

We chatted about our family and their children who were growing at such a rapid pace. Helen showered us with stories of life in Milwaukee while we filled her in on the happenings of Columbus. We talked about fashion and my cousins were positive that I should not bob my hair because it would take an eternity to grow back in once it went out of style. It was like old times. Finally my brother, my one immediate family member that I still had a good relationship with, appeared by my chair and asked me for a dance.

He moved very well for his age across the dance floor. He seemed to have sprouted an inch in the last month or so. "Are you ever going to stop growing?" I laughed as I looked up at him, trying to keep things light. He had purposely been avoiding my husband lately and I believed Charles was starting to notice.

"I would think I am close to stopping but then the inches keep adding up," he laughed and I joined in. His voice sounded so grown up. My baby brother was a baby no longer. He was 16, nearly 17 and soon enough I was sure I would be dancing at his wedding.

"You are going to pass father soon."

"And your husband?"

"I told you Will," I said quietly in his ear. "I don't want you fight that battle."

"Has he hurt you anymore?"

"It doesn't matter. I love you for believing me and wanting to fight for me but I told you before, I don't want you to. Stay out of it."

"Fine Esme but you know if you need me, I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Will." I hugged him as the music ended and I felt a hand at my elbow. I turned around and smiled, "Thomas!"

"May I cut in?" Helen's husband asked my brother.

"Of course," Will said as he handed my hand over and Thomas swept me up in the dance.

"So how are you Miss Esme?"

"I'm fine. Life is good."

"You don't look fine."

"What ever do you mean?"

"I know I haven't seen you in a while but something has changed with you dear. The light that use to always shine from your eyes, it is nearly gone and you have gotten so thin that I'm afraid that if I clasp this hand too hard I may break it."

I tucked my head to my chin, trying to will the tears away but his hand brought my chin back up, "Esme, you're one of the most important people in Helen's life, which makes you one of the most important in mine. What is wrong with you?"

"I was sick during the winter and lost my appetite and a bit of weight and just haven't seemed to be able to fully recover from it. That's all."

"Is that all?"

"Yes Thomas. That is all."

He continued a moment later, "Esme, you know if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can come to us."

"I appreciate it that but your worry is unfounded. I'm sure by the next time you see me I'll be back to my old self."

"I hope so. I miss that girl."

"The less skinny one?"

"No, the sunshine one."

"Me too."

He didn't get to say anything else as Charles stepped up behind us, "Thomas, can I take my wife off your hands?"

"Yes, of course." Thomas bowed his head slightly to me and was gone and I was gliding across the floor with Charles.

"Have you enjoyed catching up with your cousins?"

"Yes I have. I miss not having Helen and Thomas so close. I'm so happy they made the journey down here for today."

"This has been a lovely day for your sister."

"It has. They look very happy together."

"Yes they do. I believe they will be ready to go soon. I already have the suitcases in the car."

We were driving Millie and Adam back to Columbus with us. We would drop them at their hotel for the evening and tomorrow they would depart for their honeymoon. Within an hour we were on the road, Charles and I up front and Millie and Adam nestled in the back as if we didn't exist. Within another hour we were home. We walked silently up the stairs and into our bedroom. I stepped into the changing area and was back in my nightgown and crawling under the covers within minutes. I lay on my stomach, my face turned away from the other side of the bed.

Charles joined me a moment later, and I heard him settling in under the sheets. His arms reached for me, wrapping gently around my waist, pulling my back against his chest, nuzzling his face in my hair, close to my ear. "Watching the ceremony today, reminded me of our day."

"It was in the same church."

"And many of the same guests, but it made me think how happy I was when I saw you step into that aisle. You were so beautiful – like an angel sent to me." His lips touched my neck, "Of course I quickly realized you were no angel." His hands began to roam upwards from my waist.

"Charles, please, it has been such a long day. I've been fighting a headache since I woke this morning. Please, can I just go to sleep?"

He stiffened for a moment, and I sucked in my breath preparing for a blow but was surprised when he gently said against my ear, "Go to sleep dear. Feel better." His arms, still holding me, relaxed and I soon I was dozing off hoping for another interesting dream. I don't remember having a dream that evening but I woke up to reality. Although, Charles had given me a reprieve the night before, this Sunday morning I was kept in bed until the afternoon.


	18. August 1920

_Chapter 18 – August 1920_

It was so quiet. Mary sat across from me, working silently on her needlepoint. Mine sat on my lap. I had started, ripped out and retried three times. I was distracted by the letter burning a hole in my pocket. Its words were practically chiseled in my memory but really the only ones that mattered were, "I'm in a delicate condition." My sister had barely been married three months and already, a child was on the way.

I stood up and walked over the mantle and stared, without seeing, at the pictures lining it. Charles and his father were in Chicago on business for the week and I had come over to my in-laws' home to keep Mary company, as Charles had requested.

My fourth summer as Charles' wife was quickly coming to an end and no child had been produced and yet my sister, not even married four months, was already on her way to motherhood. How could this be happening?

I tried to distract myself by focusing on the images before me. Charles, as a child, sweet and innocent looking, stared at me, from a baby to our wedding portrait. He was a beautiful baby and a happy looking child, only as his pants got longer did his face take on a more serious tone. I stopped at Jonathan and Mary's own wedding portrait. I had walked by this image a hundred times but I had never really taken a good look at it. Mary was stunning. Love radiated from her face. She looked thrilled and so sure of herself and nothing like the woman I know. "Mary, I'm sorry I have never said this before but you were a gorgeous bride."

"Thank you Esme. It was the happiest day of my life."

"It looks like it. You were glowing with happiness." My eyes moved over to Jonathan's face, and were surprised to not see the same glow, in fact, he looked impassive. "Jonathan looked so serious," I remarked lightly.

"Ah well, he doesn't wear his emotions as freely as I do."

I had to press my lips together to keep from giggling. Mary was the least emotional person I know. You could easily forget she was in a room because she was so reserved.

My eyes wandered across the images of Charles through the years once again before I headed back over to sit down, "Charles was such a pretty child."

"He was and grew into a handsome man. He so looks like his father," a rare smile crossing her face.

I had to nod my head in agreement. They were very similar in their features and at times their mannerisms.

I was surprised when Mary continued since she wasn't usually one to offer more information than was immediately asked of her, "He was such a good boy. I never had any trouble from Charles. He was raised to be polite and respectful and he always has been."

I couldn't hide my astonishment that these were the words she spoke. She looked at me and I saw alarm in her eyes, "Esme, what is it?"

I shook my head trying to get the ringing out of my ears and tried to change the subject, "Mary, why did you only have Charles? Didn't you want more children?"

I still could see the apprehension on her face, "I would have liked to have given him siblings but it wasn't meant to be."

"Why?"

"Esme, I don't believe this an appropriate conversation for us to be having."

"Mother, I've been married to your son for three years and have yet to produce a child, is there something I should know about in this family's history?"

I shouldn't have this conversation now. I was too agitated by the letter in my pocket. I was too emotional but momentum was pushing me forward because how often did I have moments alone with her?

"After Charles, I lost three. Two just happened but when I was eight months along the third time I took a spill on the stairs and the doctor said I wouldn't be able to bear any more children."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I stared at Mary with new eyes. "You fell down the stairs?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "From the top to the bottom. I don't really remember it but Jonathan said it was the most horrible thing he has ever seen."

"He saw it happen?"

Her eyes darted away, but quickly came back, "Yes, he tried to catch me but I lost my balance and there was nothing he could do."

My eyes searched hers, looking for the truth. She looked worried and reached her hand over to take mine but I watched instead as my disembodied hand grab her wrist and pulled up her long sleeve, her always present long sleeves, to see what was hidden underneath that fabric. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as I prayed my intuition was wrong and that I would be left begging an apology from my mother-in-law, but as the purple marks that were so similar to those that marred my skin revealed themselves my stomach climbed to my throat.

Her mouth formed an O of shock as my eyes flew over her bruises. She cried out as she pulled her arm out of my reach, tugging down her sleeve, and we locked our eyes on each other.

"How dare you!" she whispered.

I grasped my own sleeves and one after the other pulled them up showing her my wounds. Her eyes went wide with panic and grief, for once showing emotion.

My voice shook, "This is what your polite and respectful son has done to me."

"He doesn't mean it."

"I'm sure he does," I said through gritted teeth.

"No, he just...he just…"

"He just what?"

She couldn't say anything. I didn't know what emotion was going to dominate my soul. I was furious at her for the son she raised. I empathized with her for I felt the same pain and my heart hurt for her. I was baffled that I never saw that the devil that hid in Charles also lived in his father but realized that Charles had apparently learned it from the best. And I was frightened to see the stunning, confident, happy beauty of her wedding day had turned into this meek and frail woman. Is this what I was destined to become?

She still had no words. How could she? What could she possibly say to make this right? Before I exploded with a response that I couldn't control, I stood up and started for the door. She found her voice and weakly said, "Esme, where are you going?"

I stopped and turned slowly back to face her. "I love you Mary but I just don't know what to think or feel at this moment so before I say something to hurt you, I'm going to leave."

I turned and flew out into the hallway, almost knocking into a surprised servant. I grabbed my hat near the doorway and practically ran out into the sunny hot afternoon. I kept my face down as I rushed home. I was afraid that if I looked anyone in the eyes, I might loose it completely. I took the front steps in fewer steps than I should and once in the front door, slammed it behind me. I leaned against the door, the silence of the house creeping around me as the gravity of my situation was weakening my knees.

Suddenly I heard a call from the kitchen, "Mrs. Evenson? Is that you?"

Joyce. I burst into the kitchen, startling Joyce and causing her to drop the spoon she was mixing with.

"Mrs. Evenson! What is the matter? You look a fright."

I pulled my body across the room until I was standing right in front of her. "What happened in that house?" I intensely squeezed out. I realized I was slightly breathless from rushing home so quickly.

"What house? What are you talking about?"

"You have worked for the Evensons for more than twenty-five years! What did you see?"

She was flustered, which was so unlike her. Joyce was usually a calming force for me but she was agitated. "See what, Mrs. Evenson?"

"I saw the bruises on Mary Evenson's arm. I know you are observant. You are not blind or deaf. What went on in that house? What is still going on?"

Her lower lip trembled as she gripped the counter for a moment. "Can we sit down Mrs. Evenson?"

I nodded and walked over to the small table in the kitchen and sat down gesturing for her join me. "Can I get you something?" she stalled. "Some tea maybe?"

"The only thing I need Joyce is the truth," I pleaded. Anger had given way to despair.

"It is really none of my business…" she started as she took the seat across from me.

"No it isn't but if you care about me at all, I need to know and understand what environment my husband grew up in." I could see pain in her eyes before she looked down at her hands sitting on the table. "Joyce, please help me."

Her eyes rose to meet mine.

"I started working for the Evensons the day they came home from their honeymoon. I remember Mrs. Evenson coming through the door beaming. She was so beautiful and so in love. Mr. Evenson was a different story. For all of the missus warmth and charm, Mr. Evenson was cool. He was cordial enough to me and when they had company but while my mistress was blinded with adoration, he barely acknowledged hers at times. It was like he was just tolerating her.

"I was surprised. To the outside world they were a handsome perfect couple, well suited for each other. But quickly I came to realize that while she loved him completely, he married her for her name and wealth."

"Her wealth?"

"You didn't know?" I stared at her blankly and she shook her head as she continued, "Mrs. Evenson's family had the money. The bank was run by her father and Mr. Evenson worked there. Mrs. Evenson was the oldest of two girls and there were no boys, so she and hence Mr. Evenson inherited it and its wealth when Mrs. Evenson's father passed."

I was surprised. I had always just assumed that the bank always had been on the Evenson side.

Joyce continued, "Mrs. Evenson on the other hand married for love. She loved that man with all her heart and still does. They were fine at first but I believe over time Mr. Evenson got tired of the absolute devotion and when she looked at him with adoration, he started trying to knock the smile off her face."

"Why?"

"Who knows why any man would do that to anyone, especially his wife?"

"You saw this happen?"

"Not at first. I would hear arguments, usually one-sided with him doing all the yelling. Then one morning she came down for breakfast with a bruise on her face."

"So what happened?"

"Well even though he was mean to her and showed his contempt of her at home, she became pregnant with your Mr. Evenson or Mr. Charles as I called him growing up. He seemed to let up on her. I didn't see any signs but he may have just gotten good at hiding them." She paused to study my face for a moment, which I was sure giving away more than I wanted but how could I even care at this point. "Anyways, when Mr. Charles was born he seemed like a changed man for a while. He honestly looked happy as any man should with a beautiful baby boy and an adoring wife at home but it didn't last more than say a year after the birth. Mrs. Evenson adored Mr. Charles and languished her love on him and Mr. Evenson adored his son too. In fact, with every bit of affection he gave to Charles, he loathed Mrs. Evenson. He soon fell back into the pattern of hurting Mrs. Evenson either verbally or I believe physically." She paused again to blow out some air, "And then the miscarriages happened."

"Miscarriages?" She didn't know what I did or didn't know so I might as well ask for details.

"The first one was about a year and half after Mr. Charles was born. She was only three months along when it happened. The second one was another year or so later at five months. Both were horrible and I think they began the decline of Mrs. Evenson's warm and outgoing nature. If it wasn't then, well the last one certainly pushed her over the edge." Joyce was shaking her head; her eyes stared beyond this room.

"It was late afternoon and Mrs. Evenson was eight months along and feeling it so she had gone to lie down. Mr. Charles was five and I had told the missus not to worry about him – that I would get him his supper and put him to bed. Mr. Evenson came home from work and the man has set ways about him. He doesn't like changes in his daily routine so he was not happy when he got home and didn't find his wife and son waiting to join him at the dining table.

"He strode into the kitchen where I was working and Mr. Charles was eating and screamed at me. 'Why isn't supper on the table?' I was surprised at how furious he was because he had never yelled at me like that before. I looked over at Charles who was staring wide-eyed at his father, also stunned by his father's behavior. I stayed calm though and said, 'Oh Mr. Evenson, as you can imagine your wife was a bit tired with the little one set to arrive so soon. She needed to lie down so Mr. Charles has been keeping me company. I have a plate ready for you sir if you are hungry. It will give you two a chance to spend some time together.' I smiled and was casual but even with that I could see he was set for a fight and my words had not done anything to alleviate that.

"He huffed and stormed out of the kitchen. I heard him pound up the stairs and the bang of the bedroom door slamming against the wall. I heard him yelling at her – something about her being lazy and dinner on the table and time together as a family. It was muffled through the walls and the ceiling. I tried to distract Mr. Charles with idle chatter but his eyes kept glancing upwards. When it sounded like it moved out into the hall, I started to get Mr. Charles up. I was going to take him up the servants' steps and put him to bed. I heard her trying to reason with him but it kept getting more heated. It sounded like they were near the top of the front stairs…they had to be near the top of the stairs. Suddenly I heard Mrs. Evenson cry out and then the sound of thuds and bangs and then silence.

"I looked at the little boy and told him to stay where he was while I took the longest walk I ever took across that kitchen and out into the hallway. As soon as I opened the door my eyes fell on her feet, the only thing I could see. I ran to her calling her name. She was face down. Her round stomach against the floor. Her legs flung out like a rag doll. I was sure she was dead but when I bent down on the floor over her, I could see she was breathing. I gently turned her head so she could breathe. She was unconscious and her face was in pretty bad shape. Only then did my eyes look upward to see Mr. Evenson looking down from the very top of the stairs. His hand outstretched, his mouth gaping open, his eyes burning – burning with anger, burning with guilt, burning with the knowledge that not only did he wrong this woman but he got caught doing it," Joyce spit out the words filled with loathing.

"'Mr. Evenson! Help me!' I yelled but he didn't move. I rolled her over as I screamed at him this time. I could see her left arm was definitely broken and her right knee was oddly twisted. It was then that I saw the blood pooling on her skirt. I screamed again and suddenly he snapped out of it. He flew down the stairs, barking at me to run and fetch the doctor. I stumbled up and away as he took my place at her head. As I steadied myself for a moment against the wall I let out a gasp as I saw Mr. Charles, pale as a ghost, standing there. I didn't know how long he had been standing there but in the child's eyes I saw fear. I was going to run to him, hug him, but Mr. Evenson reacted before I could, 'Charles,' he said icily still crouched over the boy's mother, 'Go back in the kitchen, up the backstairs and go to bed. Now.' His face looked like it was made of stone as he turned and disappeared through the kitchen door and Mr. Evenson, in that same tone addressed me, 'Joyce, go get the doctor. Now.'

"I was out the door and soaring down the street faster than I had ever run in my life. I was completely out of breath by the time I was pounding on the doctor's door. I could barely speak but he got the urgency, grabbed his bag and the young doctor ran with me. When we sped in the front door I slammed to a stop. They were gone. All that was at the bottom of the stairs was blood. 'Joyce, I'm upstairs!' I heard Mr. Evenson call out. The doctor and I stepped over the puddle and flew up to their bedroom where she lay unconscious and obviously bleeding still.

"'What happened?' the doctor asked as he went to the bed side. I looked to Mr. Evenson who with one look told me what happened - if he hadn't given me that look well I might have believed the story that came out of his mouth. 'She was walking ahead of me to go downstairs for supper and it looked like her heel got caught on her skirt. Before I could do anything she was at the bottom of the stairs.' He said it with conviction but I didn't believe a word of it. The doctor nodded and said, 'I have to stop the bleeding. I'll try to save the baby if I can. Mr. Evenson you should step out sir and send word to the hospital asking them to send a nurse. Joyce can you stay and assist me?' I looked toward Mr. Evenson and he nodded at me as he walked out the door, never for one moment looking at his wife.

"I didn't want to stay but I felt the need to help her . Help her as I hadn't in the past. Hoping that this would absolve me in some way for turning my head away from the torture that was going on in that house. A nurse arrive an hour or so later but I couldn't leave. He needed my hands. He worked on her for hours…the baby, a little girl, didn't make it and by the time the morning light came, Mrs. Evenson wouldn't be able to bear anymore children. She also had fractures on her left arm, right leg, a rib, left cheekbone and her nose. She was bruised everywhere. She should have been in a hospital but it would have been too hard on her to move her by that point. The doctor had her on morphine and she remained unconscious for four days before she came around to incredible pain and inconsolable grief. It was horrible.

"Mr. Evenson didn't waste time covering his tracks. He had already lied to the doctor but I knew that she hadn't fallen without assistance. He knew he had to win me over and I am ashamed to say I did what I had to do. He promised me lifetime employment, a raise and that my two boys would never want for anything. They were only seven and nine then. My husband had passed on only three years earlier at that time."

"Joyce I didn't know you had a family."

"Well they are grown now and out on their own so there has never been a need to mention them but back then, back then I needed a job and I would have done anything for my sons. He threatened me. He said if I didn't stay or if I tried to report him to the police, he would make sure that I couldn't find work anywhere in Columbus and that my boys would end up in an orphanage.

"So I agreed to stay quiet but in my own mind promised myself that I would comfort her anyway I could. Maybe even try to convince her to leave that house. She deserved better. As for Mr. Charles, his father told him that his mother fell but it wasn't until some time later that I realized he saw through the lie.

"She was in bed for months and I did what I could do to nurse her back to health. Mr. Evenson largely was absent. She would ask for him often but he was usually at work or out late. I thought at first that he couldn't face his guilt but as she started to improve and he would stop in to see her, I saw his lack of concern for her and it cut me deeply.

"I tried to spend time with Mr. Charles. I even brought my boys around to keep him company. My boys were hurt deeply by the loss of their father but by then they had been doing much better. I felt like their joy could bring light to Mr. Charles and to the house. They were only over a few times before Mr. Evenson caught wind and banned me from bringing them over.

"Mrs. Evenson started getting out of bed after about six months but the lady was changed. Physically she was healed but she was a shell who still for some unknown reason loved that evil man. It was that love that I believe eventually polluted her son's mind."

She paused then, staring at me. Her eyes now back in the present. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Mr. Charles was never quite the same happy carefree child after that period. He was a good boy and at times a sweet boy. He went on to excel at school. He may have been young but he was bright.

"It was maybe a year after the incident that I believe the abuse started again, at least that is when I first saw signs of it again. I don't know what exactly set it off but after healing and then no signs of bruising, one morning Mrs. Evenson's face was swollen and it never stopped again. He rarely fought with her, if you want to call it a fight as he was the aggressor, when I was there. I worried about what was going on at night. Was it being kept out of earshot of Mr. Charles or was he fully aware of his father's raging? All I knew was that Mr. Evenson was not laying a hand on him.

"One day I was putting out lunch for him and his mother and he was chattering away as little boys do. He was eight by then. He suddenly got quiet for a moment. I looked up to see what had silenced him and I could see he was staring at a bruise that was partially exposed on her arm. 'Mother?' he asked quietly. She didn't look up, 'Yes dear.' 'Did father push you down the stairs again?' I luckily had just put down the plates because I'm sure they would have come crashing out my hand. I was sure my face was as colorless as the missus as her wide eyes looked at her son.

"'Why would you think such a thing?' she cried.

"'Because your arm is hurt like it was then? The bruises. Why did he push you down the stairs?' He asked inquisitively as only a curious little boy could. 'Why does father hurt you?' She looked at me desperately but I looked down. I could not and would not answer this for her.

"'Well Charles, your father sometimes has problems with his temper but he loves us very much.'

"'If he loves you so much, why would he hurt you?'

"'It doesn't hurt that much when you love the person. I just need to be a better wife – not anger him so. It isn't his fault. He works so very hard to provide for us and we must always appreciate that.'

"'But I thought it wasn't very nice to hit people.'

"She skirted the issue, 'Charles, no fighting in school. It is against the rules and you will get in trouble with me and your father if you do.'

And that was the end of the conversation. It bothered me immensely that she didn't tell him it was wrong to hit a woman or that his father had problems. She took the blame on herself but that is what she always did." Joyce snickered, "It was always her own fault - she had done something wrong. It was not a great lesson for her son but that is what she taught him and I guess he listened. He never got in fights in school but was known to have some scrapes outside the school yard. Like his father, he had the charm to win people over, especially girls, but he also hated loosing and rarely did.

"I remember one night, when he was courting you ma'am. He had just gotten back from spending the day with you. I was serving dinner. I could tell from the way he talked about you that you were different. You weren't just a woman on his arm as many had been. He loved you. He was frustrated that you were not returning his feelings. Mr. Evenson chimed in, 'Well son, you just have to take control. Show her that she should love you. Make her yours.'

"'How? I've never known anyone like her.'

"'Be firm…forceful. Demand her respect. She'll come around.'

"I never suspected that Mr. Charles had so much of his father in him. When he announced your engagement it was Mr. Charles who burst into the kitchen the day after Christmas to tell me.

"'Joyce! I'm getting married! Esme said yes.'

"'Well happy day Mr. Charles! That is wonderful news. Congratulations sir.'

"'I want you to come work for me. I'm sure father will be setting us up with a good situation and I think you should come with me.'

"'Sir, I've worked for your parents for a long time. I don't know that they would be willing to let me go.'

"'But you would come if they agreed?'

"After twenty plus years of watching Mrs. Evenson waste away while being tied to this family, the opportunity to get out of that house was very appealing. And you, you were a breath of fresh air. You were so sweet and lovely…reminded me so much of Mrs. Evenson in her younger days. So of course I said I would and to my surprise the elder Mr. Evenson agreed although he reminded me of our agreement from long ago before I departed.

"You seemed so overwhelmed when you first visited your new home the week before the wedding but as I watched you and Mr. Charles I could see that he couldn't take his eyes off you. I thought this is how it is suppose to be. This will be a happy home.

"He's good at hiding it though, isn't he? A snake just like his father. I didn't realize anything was wrong at first and honestly ma'am I don't know when things got bad. I mean before he left for the war, I noticed how tired you were all the time but that isn't uncommon among newlyweds. It wasn't until after he came back and you had your fall that I became suspicious but even that morning I thought, no, he can't do this to her. He loves her. But when he came home that night and started raging about where you were…it was like watching his father and I knew then that love wasn't going to protect you or stop him. It was how his father controlled his mother and it was how he was going to try to control you.

"I thought you would leave. You were older than Mrs. Evenson was when she got married and you had been a teacher. You had a life on your own and a family that loves you. I know you never loved him like he adored you. I thought that day when you took the car that that was it. You were not coming back. I prayed that you wouldn't so I was surprised when I heard the car pulling in.

There were tears flowing down my face, "I tried but my parents wouldn't let me come home. They refused to believe how terrible he is. They said I made a vow and I had to keep it." I pulled my favorite handkerchief out to wipe my eyes.

"Oh ma'am, I am sorry to hear that. What are going to do?"

"She was carrying his children and he never stopped." I whispered more as a statement of fact to myself than a question.

"No ma'am and with dire consequences. Mr. Charles is lucky to even be here."

"But none of that luck has rubbed off on me."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Evenson that I'm not in a position to help you but I always will do what I can to heal you. I hate to see you losing your smile but I feel like you have been changing for a while. I don't want to see you turn into your mother-in-law. You are smarter and stronger than she is or ever was and certainly not a fool blinded by love and devotion for her husband. Don't forget who you were and who you are. By holding on to who you are is how you will survive."

"But is it enough just to survive? To wonder every moment of every day what is going to come through the door tonight. Will it be a husband I can reason and talk with and have some semblance of a conversation with or will it be the devil with fists of fury or the one who never takes no for an answer and steals away my dignity, degrades me and calls me a whore."

"But you know you are stronger than that. You need to escape."

"There is nowhere for me to go. He'll track me down, He'll find me and when he does…he said if I ever tried to leave him he would kill me and I am inclined to believe him."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Evenson. I'm sorry for not teaching that boy better so he would have grown up to be a good man."

"You can't take this on you Joyce. You've done the only thing you could do and it is what you are best at, take care of Evenson family's women and homes." I struggled to my feet, overwhelmed by all this information and I could feel the weight of it crushing me. "I need to go lie down."

"Do you need help getting upstairs ma'am? I know this was a lot to take in."

"No Joyce. Go home. I have a lot to think about like how I'm going to deal with my Mr. Evenson when he comes home tomorrow."

* * *

It was late in the day when Charles got home from his trip but he was in a fine enough mood. We ate together and retreated to the parlor. He read a book while I worked on my needlepoint. I could barely thread the needle with my shaking hands but when I spoke my voice was steady.

"Charles?"

"Yes."

"I received a letter from my sister. She is expecting."

He looked up in surprise. "Really? Already?"

"Yes, already," I confirmed.

"Well that didn't take very long at all."

"No it didn't," I said failing to hide my bitterness.

"Are you jealous Esme?" Charles asked, closing his book. "Do you want to go work on catching up right now?"

"Suddenly when my sister is in a delicate condition you want to catch up?"

"Well I guess it is about time we start procreating Mrs. Evenson. We don't want your sister to get too far out ahead of us. People will start to talk about you," he teased but I failed to find the humor.

"Do you think they are not talking already Charles?" I said, my frustration and annoyance on the surface. "We've been married for more than three years. You've been back for a year and a half. I'm twenty-five and you're nearly twenty-seven. I was asked twice directly whether I was pregnant the day of Millie and Adam's wedding and there have been plenty of other allusions to when are we going to have a little one."

"So it is something you really want?"

"Charles, that spring when we were engaged we talked all the time about the family we would create and our children…it was something I wanted more than anything and I thought you wanted it too," my voice aching from memories that seemed almost like faraway dreams.

"Oh I did and I do Esme but I wanted alone time with you before you become completely distracted by a screaming baby."

I pulled the conversation back to what I really needed to know, "What would you do to me if I was expecting?"

"What do you mean?" he asked with real curiosity in his voice.

"I mean if I was carrying our son or daughter would you still hurt me?"

"Are you joking?" he asked incredulously.

"Do I look like I am laughing?" I pushed on with my question. "I would like to know. If your daughter was growing inside me, would that be enough for you to keep you from striking me, attacking me in our bed, or pushing me down the stairs?"

"Esme, I-" he stuttered, his eyes wide.

"You what?" I demanded my voice hardening but still emotional. "I know about your mother. I know about the miscarriages and the fall. I had a fall too didn't I? Is there a chance I could have another one?"

"If you were having a baby I wouldn't-" he started but I cut him off.

"But what about afterwards when our little one is here and under this roof? Where he or she can hear and see things? Would you hurt his mother still when he could possible witness it? Would you teach him that it is alright to hurt someone even someone that you claim to love?" I asked as his hand entwined my wrist hard. "Ow!""

"Stop it Esme," he nearly growled at me. "You are become hysterical!"

"I'm not hysterical!" but as the words came out I feared I was in danger of being overcome by hysteria. "Let me go! Your parents have been married for more than a quarter of a century and your father still hurts her! Do you know how frightening the prospect is of spending the rest of my life in this house with you is if that is my future?"

"I wouldn't hurt our child," Charles insisted.

Reigning in my voice and emotions, "Physically, no I don't believe even the monster in you would do that but it is obvious what your father did to your mother affected you."

"Are you saying there is something wrong with me?" he asked through practically clenched teeth.

"Of course I am." I could see the surprised and annoyance on his face, "Men who love their wives don't hurt them."

"Women who marry also pledge to love their husbands."

"But that was not part of the deal when we married and you know that and we have been over that so why don't you just let me leave?"

"What?"

"It hasn't worked out. Let me leave. I'll move west. You can forget about me. You'll never hear from me again." My heart was racing.

There was an ache in his voice as he said , "But Esme, I still love you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

The ache was replaced with anger, "You are not leaving and that is final. You are mine forever."

"So then answer my question?"

"How did you find out about my parents?" It seemed that he was trying to avoid my question with his own.

"She told me about the miscarriages, the fall and not being able to have any more children."

"And that my father hit her?"

"I saw the bruises on her arm."

"Oh."

"Answer my question!"

His "devil may care" attitude presenting itself, "We've hidden enough Esme. I'm sure whatever was to happen in the future, we could keep it quiet."

"You are the devil."

"A devil that apparently needs to procreate to catch up to his sister-in-law," his hand falling to my knee and I immediately pulled away.

"Don't touch me," I spat out. "Do you actually believe that I would want to bring a son into this house knowing that they would witness the same horrors growing up that you did and create another abuser?"

His eyes narrowed, "You're my wife. I own you. I'm going to touch you wherever I want and whenever I want and tonight we're taking this upstairs."

"I don't want to," I insisted, feeling slightly childish in this very adult conversation.

"It doesn't matter what you want. I want you and we are going to bed," he said standing up.

"And if I refuse?" Why was I questioning him like this? I was heading for trouble but I couldn't help myself.

"It is not an option." As he reached down, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack.

Trying to regain some control, "Charles, put me down. Let me walk."

"Ah no dear," his hand climbing up under my skirt. "I'm taking care of you; besides I wouldn't want you to take another fall on the stairs."

He dropped me on to the bed. And stepped back to take a look at me for a moment, "Damn it Esme, it's your own fault for being so attractive and willful. You could have just lied to me, been an actress and said you loved me from the beginning but no you have your pride and so you keep forcing me to have to try to break you - bend you to my will through any means necessary," he said as he caressed my breast through my dress.

"Fine Charles, I love you. I love you with all of my heart. I love you more than anything in this world."

I couldn't help but gasp as his hand slapped across my cheek, "Liar."

I tried to get up but he pushed me hard back onto the bed, "Are you really going to fight me tonight? I haven't had you in a week. Do you honestly think you are going to get away from me Esme?"

"I don't want to have your child. How could I even think of wanting to have a baby with you – raising a child in this house with you."

"You don't know what you want." He mocked me as he painfully grabbed my arms. "I know what you have been doing for months. You have been trying to get pregnant but today you suddenly change your mind? You need to get over yourself Esme. I make the rules darling. I always have and I always will. If I want you, I'll have you. If I want to try to make a baby with you, well there is nothing you can do about that either. I control you. I own you and your life."

"I hate you," my voice shook as his hands viciously pulled the skirt of my dress up.

There was humor in his voice, "No you don't. Whether your love me or not, you don't hate. It's not in you. So no matter how much you might want to despise me you are not capable of it and that is your curse dear. You are just too damn emotional."

"I can try to make an exception for you," I said through gritted teeth as he made short work of my dress and tossed it aside.

His eyes locked on mine as he slid his hand up the inside of my thigh, "But you won't and that hurts you more than a hand or a penis."

"Charles!" I yelped at his words and his action as he painfully rammed a finger into me.

"Shhh!" his free hand roughly covering my mouth as he looked down into my eyes. "You've lost Esme."

As I lay there while he brutally reigned over my body, I knew he was right. I had lost. I was trapped. I was his. No one was coming to rescue me. All I could do was pray for the opposite of what I had prayed for years – "Please God, if you can't or won't change Charles, then don't bless me with children. I can't provide children with a good father so I don't want them anymore."

I almost laughed as I prayed this. I wondered if years of praying for a family and children could be stopped in its tracks. Could my new prayers undo the old ones?

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I'm sorry I'm not getting chapters up faster but I hope they are always worth the wait. Write a review and I'll send you a preview of the next chapter, which I am diligently working on. **


	19. November 1920 Part 1

_Chapter 19 – November 1920 – Part 1_

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you alright?"

My hand was wrapped around the streetlamp pole like a lifeline. My body bent far over so if I was going to get sick, hopefully I would miss my dress and shoes. I felt stabbing pain shooting through my midsection but I didn't care. I could hear the concerned man questioning behind me but before I could respond another wave of nausea ran through me and I was coughing, choking and then my light breakfast was on the ground in front of me.

My eyes were watering when I finished retching. I was embarrassed by my public illness. I had started to feel it in the milliners and had cut down this street, hoping to make it home before I was overcome but failed.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my clammy face and slowly turned to face the man. From his dress and appearance he looked as if he was going to work at one of the nearby factories. "Ma'am there is a hospital right down the street. Please, let me help you."

I could feel my throat burning from the bile but still, "Thank you but I don't want to make you late for work. I'll be fine." I felt light headed.

"It is on the way ma'am and you look like you are going to drop where you are standing."

I felt my mind slipping and suddenly the man was catching me around the waist and helping me down the street. I wasn't sure what he was saying but next thing I knew, I was in a wheelchair in the hospital and the man tipped his hat to me and was gone.

The nurse rolled me down the hall and into an examination room and helped me up onto the table, pain radiating through the left side of my torso.

"I need to get some information from you and your name ma'am," said the nurse.

"Esme Evenson."

"Mrs. Evenson, the man who brought you in said you were sick on the street and almost fainted. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I was fine this morning but I was in the milliner shop and suddenly felt nauseous…something in the air…a smell…I tried to get home but I was overcome. I am feeling better already." I started to get up but the nurse gestured me back to the exam table.

"Well something made you sick Mrs. Evenson and since you are already here, why don't you let the doctor see you."

I nodded in agreement and winced as I laid back and looked up at a crack in plaster…a memory flooded over me and I sat straight up with a gasp causing the nurse to turn back to face me. I scrutinized her face, "Nurse Miller?"

She studied my face in return. "No one has called me that in a long time. Do I know you?" She had aged. I remembered her appearing closer to my age but now she appeared to have some more years on me.

"I was a patient here years ago, about nine."

"Nine years ago and you remember me?"

"It was a memorable evening."

She was studying my face still, searching her mind for a memory of me. Finally recognition crossed her face, "You had a broken leg. Gosh, you were just a girl then."

I couldn't help but smile, "I was 16."

"Summer of 1911."

"Yes, exactly. How did you remember?"

"I had just started here. You were one of the first female patients I had. Back then we saw almost exclusively men admitted here from the factories."

"I remember you saying that. There was a Nurse Adams that evening too."

"Aye and that is now my name." She must have seen my confusion. "She became my mother-in-law. I married her son."

"Oh! Congratulations." I smiled.

"We married in 1913 and I have a son and a daughter so congratulations are a little late but thank you."

"That must be confusing having two Nurse Adams working here."

There was sadness in her eyes and she looked down for a moment before looking at me again, "It has never been an issue actually. I stopped working when we married but my husband was killed in the war so I had to start working again to take care of my children. By the time I came back here, my mother-in-law had stopped working and she passed away earlier this year."

My heart ached for her, "I am so sorry Nurse Adams."

"Thank you. I am sorry; I shouldn't be burdening you with this Mrs. Evenson."

"No, it is fine. It is not a burden at all. How are you children doing?"

Pride replaced the sadness. "They are great. Children are so resilient. Emma is six and Matthew is four. It is hard being away from them but you do what you have to do for the sake of your children."

I nodded, "That is what I have been told."

She grinned, "When your time comes Mrs. Evenson you will see."

I grimaced but tried not to show it and changed the subject to the question I was almost afraid to ask, "Let me ask you Nurse Adams, is Doctor Cullen still here?"

Her face turned red and she giggled, putting her hand over her mouth, "Oh I'm sorry Mrs. Evenson. I'm now very surprised that you remember me at all if you were Doctor Cullen's patient. No, he left here and Columbus – it was probably a month or so after you were in here. He moved west to California."

"Oh," I replied looking down. I never had known where the hospital was that they took me to that night. It was dark and I was lying in the back of the wagon and couldn't see where we went. Charles had given me the address for the milliners near his office to pick up his hat. This was outside of my usual stomping grounds.

I always wondered if I would just stumble upon him one day on the street but now I knew, he was long gone. I don't know what I would have said if I ran into the man who haunted my dreams but now I knew for sure, there was never a chance I was going to see him in person again.

Nurse Adams chuckled at my expression and glanced at the door before turning back to me with bright eyes, whispering, "He was so handsome it was intimidating but he was also so patient with me as new nurse. I learned so much from him. He is a great doctor."

He was real and the goodness I remembered was genuine. "He was stunning. I've never met anyone like him."

"Like who?" asked the older doctor, overhearing the last bit of my statement as he walked in the door. Nurse Adams stood at attention. "Doctor Johnson, Mrs. Evenson was a patient of Doctor Cullen years ago."

"Doctor Cullen? Haven't thought about him in a while. Brilliant surgeon. Brilliant doctor. The only problem was most of the nurses turned stupid around him," he gruffly said, eyeing Nurse Adams with the last statement. She embarrassingly looked down and thrust my chart out into his waiting hand. "Mrs. Evenson, it says you here that you are experiencing vomiting and almost fainted."

"Yes but I am feeling better now."

"How long has this been going on?"

"I was at the milliners and something in the air smelled bad and turned my stomach."

"Has this happened any other times recently?"

I thought for a moment, "I've felt a bit queasy off and on for the last week or so…maybe longer."

"Have you been vomiting?"

"Today was the first time. It usually passes after a little while."

He walked over to me, "Lay back please, Mrs. Evenson. I'm going to feel for anything out of the ordinary." I did as I was told and he began pressing over the right side of my abdomen. "Let me know if it hurts anywhere."

He kept looking to me and I shook my head no until he moved to my left side. Tears filled my eyes as I gasped in pain. The doctor looked at me and then to the nurse. "I'm sorry Mrs. Evenson but right here?" He felt the same spot and I cringed again and nodded. "Have you had a fall recently?"

I couldn't speak without sobbing so I shook my head no. "Do you have any bruising in this area?"

I nodded yes.

"Alright, Mrs. Evenson. I don't think this is what is making you sick but I want to take a closer look in a moment. In the meantime, when was your last menstruation?"

The pain still searing, sudden change in subject caught me off guard. I had to think for a moment. I took a deep breath so I could speak. My voice was shaking, "Maybe six weeks ago but my cycle isn't usually regular so that is not unusual for me."

"Hmm, even so, have you noticed any changes? Have you been unusually tired?"

"No more than usual."

"Have you felt any other abdominal discomfort?"

"Only the pain on my left side I think."

"And how long have you felt that?"

I knew exactly how long, "A week."

"Have your breasts been sore or swollen?"

Again I had to think, "I noticed they were sore one day last week."

"Mrs. Evenson, I suspect that you are pregnant. I need to do an internal examination to be sure and I want to get a better look at your left side. The nurse will provide you with a gown. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He turned and exited, my eyes staring widely at his back as he disappeared through the door.

"Mrs. Evenson, here is a gown. Please remove everything. Do you need help or would you like me to step out?" I forgot that Nurse Adams was still in the room.

"I'll be fine. Please give me a few minutes."

"You look a bit faint."

I almost fell over the moment I tried to stand up but the nurse was at my side in an instant. "I'm not leaving the room ma'am. I don't want to come back and find you passed out on the floor. You can go behind the screen.

I hadn't even noticed the small white screen against the wall. She made sure I had a steady hold on the table and went over and pulled it out. I wasn't in my body as she helped me behind it. I was numb. I began undressing. There was nothing I could hide now. I was going to be fully exposed. It was his own fault. One way or another he put me in this position.

I pulled my arms through the sleeves and wrapped it around me and stepped out. Nurse Adams looked at me, "Oh those new gowns. Sorry, I didn't think to tell you. Most of our patients are still men. The opening is actually supposed to go in the back but it makes sense for it to go in the front for your exam."

I could feel my face flushing and instinctually pulled the gown tighter around me. "Calm down Mrs. Evenson. Everything is going to be alright. Please get on the table and I'll go retrieve Doctor Johnson."

She went out the door and I did as I was told. A moment later the doctor and the nurse returned. "Mrs. Evenson, I'm going to take a look at your abdomen first," I nodded and stared at his face as his hand went to move the gown away, waiting for the reaction. I heard Nurse Adams swallow a gasp as my skin was exposed and saw the doctor give her a stern warning look. "Mrs. Evenson, I asked you before if you had a fall and you said no. Were you in some type of accident?"

"No I wasn't doctor." I wasn't covering this up for him.

"Can you tell me where these bruises came from?"

"My husband is a bit of a bully doctor."

He nodded with a grave look on his face and out of the corner of my eye I saw Nurse Adams flinch. "This is going to hurt Mrs. Evenson. His fingers touched the painful spot and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing the pain. After what felt like an eternity, his hands moved away. "You have a bruised, probably cracked rib. I could wrap it but since you have been living with it for a week and if you are expecting I don't want to constrict you so just try to rest. It will heal on its own."

I nodded that I understood. "Yes doctor."

"Now lay back Mrs. Evenson." I positioned myself and waited for another stifled gasp, which came again as my gown was moved aside. I stared at the crack in the ceiling as the doctor examined me praying that something else was making me feel sick.

"I'm done ma'am, you can sit up." I pulled the gown around me as the nurse helped me sit up. I looked at the doctor expectantly as he wrote on the chart. He turned to face me and said, "Mrs. Evenson you are pregnant. I would say about 8 to 10 weeks or so but this isn't my area of expertise."

I couldn't speak. Why did my life always change in this room?

"Mrs. Evenson," the doctor continued, "I am concerned about the bruising on your torso and on your thighs. This cannot continue while you are pregnant. Is your husband a somewhat reasonable man? Will he understand that if he doesn't stop he will put your child's health at risk?"

"I would hope so doctor but please don't concern yourself."

"Is there someone who can help you?"

"As I said doctor, please don't worry about me. I'll take care of it. I just ask that you keep any record of my visit here private."

"Please don't do anything rash."

"I'm fine doctor. Thank you. Now please, I would like to get dressed and get home."

"Excuse me then Mrs. Evenson. You can check out at the desk."

"Thank you Doctor Johnson." He exited the room but Nurse Adams stayed.

I looked at her and saw her pain and pity for me. I went behind the screen and started dress as quickly as possible. I needed to get out of there. "Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Evenson?"

"No," my voice was unusually high as I tried to sound carefree. "Thank you. I appreciate the thought."

"Do you have family you can go to?"

"What for? I'm fine."

"It is wrong what he is doing to you. You have to know that."

"I think you are overstepping your position Nurse Adams."

"I am and I am sorry but you seem like such a lovely person and you shouldn't be treated like that."

"No one should be treated like this but it is what it is," I said, finishing dressing and stepping out from behind the screen.

"Mrs. Evenson." She looked me right in the eye as she stepped between me and the door. "He hit you so hard that he cracked your rib when his child is growing inside of you. You are going to have a baby. You can't even begin to imagine how that child is going to change you but it is worth protecting and bringing into this world and you are worth protecting as well."

"Please let go of me. I will take care of myself. Now can I please pay and then please forget that you ever saw me today."

She looked like she wanted to say something else but she snapped her mouth shut and lead me out of the room. I paid and headed out the door.

I don't remember the walk home but suddenly I found myself in the back bedroom sitting in the rocking chair that had been my grandmother's. I was rocking slowly and my mind was jumbled.

" Esme! Pull yourself together."

I gasped at the sound of my grandmother's voice in my head and placed my hands over my stomach. What was wrong with me? No I didn't want to raise a child with Charles but I wanted this all of my life. I wanted to be mother. I wanted this baby. I loved him or her already…I have always loved this baby. What was I going to do?

The words flowed through my mind:

"I've told you before Esme, when the time is right you will be a mother and your kids are going to adore you."

"No 'ifs' Esme. Only when. You know it will happen."

"Back then I needed a job and I would have done anything for my sons."

"It is hard being away from them but you do what you have to do for the sake of your children."

My hands slid along the smooth wood of the rocking chair's arms. This chair that two generations of Barstow women had rocked in and I would be rocking the third – if she was a girl she would be an Evenson by name but I was Barstow more than Platt or Evenson at heart and she would be too. What if it was a boy though? Another Evenson male? Another Charles or Jonathan? No, I couldn't let that happen…I wouldn't let that happen. Charles wouldn't change. He admitted it to me and his father never did…I had to get out.

I looked at my watch and saw it was a little past noon. I grabbed the hat box at my feet and ran out of the room and into our bedroom. I put the hatbox in the closet and grabbed the suitcase off the high shelf. I carefully picked clothes that would fit on me as my body expanded. I opened the bottom drawer of my bureau and dug around for a small satchel and finally found it. In it was my secret savings, money left over from my teaching days that I kept hidden for an emergency. I picked up my warmest coat, gloves and scarf and an appropriate hat. The only book I had upstairs was Jane Eyre, which I threw in my luggage. I closed the bag and took one last look around the room to see if I had missed anything but there was nothing that I would miss.

I walked over to my jewelry box and opened it. I looked down at my dress and removed the locket broach with his picture that I always wore as a sign of respect that he never returned. I placed it in the box. I then looked at me left hand at the bands that bound me to him. I asked God's forgiveness as I removed the diamond ring and the band of gold and placed them both in the jewelry box. I glanced down at the rings that had rarely left my hand since June 1917, tears burning in my eyes for what could have been when that ring went on my finger on that beautiful day. I shook my head and swatted my tears away with the back of my hand and then slammed the jewelry box shut. Never again will I wear such a band as I will never vow myself to any man ever again.

I walked out of the closet, picked up my suitcase and walked out of the bedroom of terror forever. I headed for the back stairs, pausing briefly to look in the room that would have been my child's nursery. I wished I could take the rocking chair with me but the locket around my neck was the only piece of my beloved grandmother that I could take with me.

I closed the door on the nursery and started down the stairs and as I hit the last step, two eyes met mine and I froze. I was caught.

Joyce was at the sink washing dishes, her head turned back over her shoulder to see me. I'm sure she was planning to greet me but she was stopped in her tracks by the way I was dressed and the suitcase in my hand. She looked me up and down and then reached for a towel and wiped her hands and started walking to me.

She nodded toward the door and I swallowed and shook my head up and down. She stopped in front of me and reached out her hand to shake mine. "Mrs. Evenson, please consider this my resignation. Thank you for the opportunity to serve you and your family but I believe my services will no longer be needed by the Evensons."

I watched her serious businesslike face melt before me and she threw her arms around me. "Good luck Esme. Never look back."

I kissed her cheek. "Thank you so much Joyce for being such a good friend."

"You should go through the alley."

I nodded and with one last squeeze of my hands she whispered, "Go."

And with that I walked out the back door and escaped the house of horrors. I snuck down the alley way and out onto the next block. I kept my head down as I maneuvered quickly through the streets of Columbus praying that I wouldn't run into anyone I know. Finally I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached my destination. I walked up to the ticket window, "Good afternoon, I want to purchase a one way ticket to Milwaukee."

**As Esme leaves Columbus, is there anything that you feel hasn't been explained? Do you have a burning question that you feel has been left unanswered? Please send me a note. **

**Reviews will get you a Chapter 20 preview. As always, thank you for reading. Love, Esme**


	20. November 1920 Part 2

Chapter 20 – November 1920 – Part 2

I was exhausted and so cold. It was nearing midnight and I had boarded my first train at 1:35 p.m.

I had taken window seats, usually in a corner on every train. I had fits of tears and moments of giddiness that were almost manic. No one spoke to me although I could feel the looks of concern but I probably looked too troubled for anyone to want to make an effort. I kept my head down, trying to avoid eye contact and recognition as much as possible.

I cried for sadness, fear, happiness and freedom. I laughed at the thought that this may actually work. I may actually be free. As the train pulled in to the station in Milwaukee I felt fear but I also felt tremendous hope that I was putting my trust in the right people.

As the cab pulled up in front of the address I had memorized from the many letters I had written to my cousin, I prayed that this had been the right decision. I had assurance that it was a moment after stepping out of the car.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the front curtain fall back into place, a light still burning behind it. An instant later the front door opened and Thomas came bounding down the steps and threw his arms around me, "My God, Esme Evenson! What are you doing here?" He kissed my cheek and pulled back to look at my face. I don't know what he saw but the gravity of it was enough to wipe his jovial look away. "Come my dear, let's get you inside." He picked up my suitcase now containing all my belongings in the world with one hand and placed the other around my waist to lead me up the stairs.

It was warm in the house and not just the temperature. Thomas took my coat and hung it up. "Come in by the fire, Esme." He said leading me into the front room. I followed him, having not yet said a word. "Can I get you something to eat? Something to drink?"

I couldn't deny that I was hungry, not when I now knew I was eating for two. "I'm famished." I spoke, my voice sounding crackled and tired.

He nodded, "Give me a moment." He disappeared and I leaned toward the fire from the chair Thomas had sat me in. I took a look at my surroundings for the first time. It seemed larger and more richly decorated than their home in Columbus. Thomas must be doing well. Was I hideous to be invading their good life?

At that moment Thomas returned. "Our servant Abby is putting something together for you."

"I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all," he said taking the seat closest to me, "Now Esme dear, what has brought you to our door in the middle of the night?"

To say the words was frightening. How would he react? I was here now though so I had to speak. "Thomas, I've run away. I've left Charles."

I waited for his reaction. I saw confusion, sadness and maybe even pain cross his face. He nodded. "Our home is your home, Esme. Let's get you something to eat and put you to bed and there will be time for the story in the morning."

"I'm expecting," my voice cracked, "Thomas, I'm going to have a baby."

"All the more reason to get you fed and rested."

"Mr. Thomas?" A young woman had entered the room with a plate and a cup of tea. He jumped up to meet her, taking the items from her hands.

"Thank you Abby. Please make sure the guest room is in order before retiring. My wife's cousin will be staying with us for a while."

"Yes sir."

And with that she was gone. I devoured the food as if I had eaten for weeks. When the plate was empty and the cup drained, I turned to Thomas once again.

"How is she? Has the baby come yet?"

"No, not yet but any day now. She went to bed hours ago. She will be thrilled that you came to us. I was just up reading and actually had lost track of the time."

"I'm sorry to keep you up later."

"Esme, do not apologize for anything. Now let's get you upstairs."

* * *

Sunlight was creeping through the curtain, dimly lighting the room. I was warm, comfortable and alone in this bed but it was new day and I needed to rise and face it.

At that moment there was a knock on the door, I bolted straight up. "Come in."

The servant from last night popped her head around the door, "Good morning ma'am. I've run a bath for you. I understand you had a long journey yesterday and thought you would like to freshen up."

"Thank you, Abby is it?" I said as I stood up, picking up my robe and putting it on.

"Yes ma'am," she said with a nod. "Mr. Thomas and Mrs. Helen requested that you join them downstairs only when you are ready. The bathroom is right across the hall. You'll find everything you need laid out."

"Thank you, Abby."

"Can I get anything else for you ma'am?"

"No, I'm fine."

She nodded again and disappeared.

The bath felt wonderful. My journey seemed like a distant memory…almost a dream. Less than twenty-four hours ago I was living in hell in Columbus and now I was a mother to be in Milwaukee. How quickly our lives can change?

I dressed and went down to face one of the hardest discussions of my life hoping that I would not face the same rejection that I received from my family.

"Esme! I can't believe you are here!" A rather large and round Helen surprisingly jumped to her feet and threw her arms around me as soon as I entered the dining room. "When I woke up this morning and Thomas told me that you were here, I was so shocked that I'm surprised I didn't go into labor right there and then."

"Helen, I wouldn't want that on my conscience so I'm happy you are alright. You are glowing."

"As are you."

I could feel the color draining from my face as I looked toward Thomas, still standing by his seat where he rose when I entered the room. He shook his head no.

"Esme!" A little bundle of brown curls hit my knees. I looked down to find Laura wrapped around my legs. I hadn't even seen her in her seat a moment before. I couldn't help but laugh and let go of Helen to reach down and pick her up.

"Good morning Laura. You are getting so big pretty girl," I said kissing her cheek.

She touched her hand to my cheek, her big beautiful blue eyes staring into mine, and said, "Story time?"

I chuckled along with her parents, "Maybe later darling. I need to speak with your parents first."

Thomas rose now to take the pouting child out of my arms. At that moment another servant, a woman with quite a few years on Abby, entered the room. "Nellie, this is Mrs. Esme, she will be staying with us for a while. Esme, Nellie is our housekeeper."

"At your service, ma'am. Please let me know if you need anything," Nellie said with a smile.

"Thank you Nellie. It is nice to meet you."

Thomas spoke now to Laura as he rubbed noses with her, "Sweetheart, I need you to be a good girl and go play with Nellie or Abby for a while and Cousin Esme will be happy to tell you a story later."

The little girl nodded, "Yes papa," and he set her on her feet. As Nellie reached her hand out to take Laura's Thomas addressed his housekeeper, "Nellie, we'll be in the parlor and are not to be disturbed."

"Yes, Mr. Thomas. Come on Miss Laura." They practically skipped out of the room.

Helen looked a bit bewildered and Thomas picked up a made up plate from the table, "Tea Esme?"

"Yes, please."

"You two go ahead in to the parlor and I'll bring your breakfast and a fresh pot."

I followed Helen out of the room and down the hall again admiring her home this time in the light of day.

"I still can't believe you are really here. I was so worried about going through this again without you and Grace. I can't believe you made such a long journey just to be with me," she said as she gingerly sat down on the sofa and gestured me to the closest chair.

It was my turn to be surprised but before I could respond, Thomas entered the room carrying a tray. Having overheard Helen, he cheerily chimed in, "I told Helen that you have come to help her when the baby arrives." He put down the tray and continued talking as he handed me the plate and poured a cup of tea for me. "That you wanted to surprise her and how sweet it was for you to come all this way." He handed me the cup and stood up to close the door. Helen was still beaming at me and I was at a loss for words. I couldn't help but cringe slightly as I heard the door shut and my motion didn't go unnoticed by Helen.

"Esme, what's wrong?"

The teacup was shaking in my hand and I placed it and the plate on the table beside me before I broke her beautiful china. Thomas took a seat on the sofa beside his wife. He reached for her hand, the smile now gone from his face. He addressed Helen first in a lower voice than the one he was just using, "My dear, I'm sorry but I had to misrepresent the situation this morning for Esme's sake. Although I am sure she is thrilled to be here to help you, a much more serious situation brought her to our doorstep last night. I don't know the whole story yet but I'm sure that is why she wanted to speak with us this morning. Is that an accurate assumption Esme?"

I bobbed my head up and down and swallowed hard as I looked at their waiting eyes. "Please, just let me tell you the whole story before you pass judgment on me."

Helen reached across with her free hand and grasped mine, "My dear sister, you can tell us anything. We love you."

I squeezed back the tears and began my story. I told them everything - My feelings for Charles before we were married that he was well aware of when he took me as his bride - The humiliation of our wedding night and what went on for months until he left for the war - My conversation with Grace the day he left and sleeping in the guest room for more than a year – Our happy reunion when he returned that was so quickly shattered by his attack on the stairs – His threats - The varying degrees of physical, mental and sexual abuse that debased me and stole my dignity – My deteriorating health – Pleading with my family to let me come home and their responses and rejection – Discovering what went on in the Evenson household – My struggle with wanting a family, the fear of what it would mean and the battle for control over my body – and finally the events of yesterday that led me to their doorstep.

When I finished, every word spoken that I had been dying to tell someone for so long, and yet mortified that I had bared my soul so completely, I felt a certain relief. I looked at Helen and Thomas and tried to read what they were thinking.

Helen was trembling, her face almost green. Thomas looked stunned and angry.

He was angry. I was making her sick. They were going to kick me out. I brought shame to their home.

Thomas silently handed me his handkerchief as the one I held was a mess. Helen started sniffling and then wailed, "Oh Esme!" and with strength I didn't know a woman nine months pregnant could have, she threw herself up and into my arms, Thomas catching her at the waist to keep her from injuring herself or me.

I let her cry, not sure what to make of it, my own tears still flowing. I looked toward Thomas but he was too busy watching his wife, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

"I'm so sorry, Esme." She finally cried into my hair and then sat back still clutching my hand, "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you. That I didn't see your unhappiness. I wish you had gone to my father."

"No, Helen," Thomas finally spoke with anger audible in his tone. He was furious with me for upsetting her. "Michael would never oppose Robert's decision even if he considered him wrong. They are as much brothers as you two are sisters and he is too loyal to him." He stroked Helen's back and looked at me now. "And I too am sorry for not prodding you more last summer when we were at your sister's wedding. I sensed something was wrong. I even asked you. I should have done more."

They weren't angry. I started sobbing more.

Thomas continued, "Esme, I will never be able to make up to you for not being there and for being so blind to your pain. No one should ever have to go through what you went through and to you of all people! How could he do that to you? How could any man do that to his wife? To the woman he promised to love and protect forever? And the fact that your family refused to help you…" his fist flew to his mouth, biting back the pain he felt for me. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself, "I plead for your forgiveness for not helping you sooner."

I still was crying and tried to swallow my tears to speak, "There is nothing to forgive. You didn't know. I hid so much."

Helen squeezed my hand, "But now it is all out. I'm happy that you trusted and believed in us enough to come all this way and tell us everything."

"Thank you for not throwing me out."

"Why would you think for a moment that we would throw you out?" Thomas said. "I told you if you ever needed anything to come to us. I would never rescind that offer. You have been so wronged and don't think you haven't been. You have done nothing to deserve the treatment you have received. I could kill Charles Evenson for what he has done to you."

"No, Thomas. He isn't worth it."

"Death would be too easy for him anyway."

"Don't talk like that. You are too good of a man to think that way."

"Esme, we will hide you here until you have the baby. We will do whatever we can to provide and take care of you but Charles will look for you. We won't be able to hide you forever. Sadly, based on their behavior so far, your family will take his side."

"I know and I don't want to be a burden on you."

"You are not burden at all but you need to think about what life you want for your future. You're marriage in your heart is done as it should be. I noticed you are no longer wearing your rings."

I looked down at my naked left hand and met his eyes, "It is. I left my rings behind." my hand touching my stomach, "this is the only person that matters now."

He smiled slightly for the first time, "Would you want to teach again?"

I brightened, "You read my mind. I was thinking about moving west. It is what I wanted to do before I was promised to Charles. When I was teaching, it was some of the happiest moments of my life."

"Well then I will help you secure a teaching position next fall. When are you due?"

"By the doctor's estimate and my own, probably June."

"You will stay with us through most of next summer and then we will help you get to your new home."

"Thank you," I was overcome again. "Thank you so much," I cried. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Your trust is more than enough." Thomas said, threading his fingers through his wife's. She was staring up at him with admiration and so much love and affection that I had to look away. That pure love was more than my heart could handle at the moment.

As I stared down into my lap, I heard a giggle and Helen once again squeezed my hand, "Esme, you are going to be a mother. This is what you always wanted and no one I have ever known deserves this more than you. Your child is going to have the best mother any child could ever hope for. This was the role you were born to play."

My heart fluttered with excitement, "And you will be beside me after all."

"Yes my dear sister, I will hold your hand and I will help you welcome your son or daughter into this world just you did for me with Laura and I'm sure I will call upon you soon to do again."

"I couldn't imagine being anywhere else."

With that our hearts were light. My burden and fear were eradicated. We spent the rest of the morning talking about the future, however mysterious it may be, and Helen and Thomas filled me in on their life in Milwaukee. Thomas was doing very well for himself, better than he ever would have done in Columbus. They lived in a very fashionable neighborhood. They had Abby as their live in servant and Nellie for their housekeeper to manage a home that in actuality exceeded the size of my former house. And although I could tell in her wistful way that Helen missed Columbus and her family, they had each other and that was all they needed. They were exceedingly happy.

I spent the afternoon on the floor in the nursery with Laura, playing games and telling stories. She was sunshine and happiness and I couldn't get enough of her. I had missed so much time with her. I was still astounded she remembered me from last summer but as Helen pointed out, "You are so special, Esme; the children never forget you."

That night, after Helen retired, Thomas and I sat in the parlor to plan my story.

"Winter will set in soon and travel from Columbus to here is treacherous. That is the only reason Grace and Sarah haven't come to help her through the birth. They are afraid of being stuck here and not being able to get home - Grace to her children and Sarah isn't as young as she once was."

"So I'm here because to help because I don't have children."

"Yes and by the time the snow melts, we can say that you are unable to travel due to your condition."

"Then when the baby is born, I will leave not long after that and your friends will think I have gone home."

"No one will be the wiser."

"What about family? Won't they want to come visit in the spring?"

"We can put them off for a while but if they become insistent, we will go to Columbus to keep them from coming here, which might not be a bad thing…It will give me a chance to close out my family's accounts at Columbus Savings and Trust."

He saw my grimace, "We will keep them in the dark as long as we can dear."

"But what about your relationship with my family?"

"Anything that ends up broken, Helen and I will deal with. We talked at length this afternoon while you were entertaining Laura. We will protect you and whether your family sees it or not, it is the right thing to do."

The next morning a telegram arrived during breakfast addressed to Thomas. I watch him as he opened it, read it and put it inside his jacket pocket. He nodded at me. As soon as the servants cleared the room, Helen occupied Laura while Thomas leaned toward me and murmured, "It was from Michael. It says you have run away and Charles suspects with another man."

"What!" I practically yelled.

He shushed me. "I'm sure he is just trying to paint you as the sinner dear to look like the sympathetic one."

"How dare he!"

"I know but Michael asked that if you come to us or contact us to send word right away and he will come fetch you back personally."

"He's horrible," Thomas knew it wasn't Michael that I spoke of.

"I know. And I will send word right away to Michael that that seems completely out of your character but that we have not heard anything from you and if we do we will let him know immediately."

"Thank you."

"Snow!" Laura suddenly squealed looking out the window where sure enough, a smattering of flakes was falling from the sky.

"I shall run to Western Union now before the snow gets too bad." Thomas grabbed my hand and kissed it. "Don't worry Esme. It is not good for you or the baby." He rose and kissed his wife cheek and his little girl on top of her head and was gone.

* * *

The next week flew by. I was still feeling nauseated on and off but had avoided vomiting again. It was quiet. I felt safe. I ate and slept well. I still had happy dreams but now every time I closed my eyes I saw myself with a little one in my arms.

Suddenly it was Thanksgiving and as we sat down to an abundant meal, I couldn't remember the last time I felt so grateful.

"Dear Lord," Thomas began, "Thank you for this feast and the hands of our dear Abby and Nellie who spent so many hours preparing it for my family. Thank you for the blessing of our beautiful daughter, Laura and the child who will be gracing us with his or her presence any day now. Thank you for bringing Helen and I together to share our love and lives together. And thank you for sending Esme to us during her time of need so that we could share this day with her and please watch over her and bless and protect her unborn child. For all these gifts and so much more we thank you our creator. Amen."

"Amen."

We ate the phenomenal meal until we could eat no more. It was early but late enough that Helen and Laura were both ready to retire for the night shortly after we got up from the table. I took Laura and read her a story and put her to bed while Thomas helped his wife.

As had now become a custom, I met up with Thomas in the parlor in front of the fire. Some nights we talked or played chess. Other nights we both got lost in books. We were just two friends who enjoyed each others' company who were not ready to go to bed so early. I'm sure in a few months that would no longer be the case for me.

It was about quarter after ten when both heard it, our heads coming out of our books at the same time and we looked at each other. We listened and heard it again, and both were on her feet in an instant, running out of the room. Abby had poked her head through the door of the dining room as we passed and Thomas called to her, "Go get the doctor and alert Mrs. Jenkins."

She disappeared and as we charged up the main stairs, Nellie must have run up the servants stairs because she arrived in the hall the same time as us. Thomas flew through the door with me behind him and Nellie at my heels. Helen stared only at her husband, beads of sweat already forming on her forehead, "It's time. The baby's coming."

He made a move to rush to her side but Nellie interceded, quickly skirting around me and holding her hands up in front of him. "We've got her Mr. Thomas. Go to your study and we'll come get you when it is all over."

He went to protest but sighed as he could see Nellie wasn't going to budge. His eyes met his wife's one more time. "I love you Helen."

"I love you too," she called out as Nellie practically pushed him out of the room.

Nellie turned to me and she was all business. I had no doubt that she had witnessed many births over the years. "Sit with her while I go get some supplies. Call for me if she starts going fast."

I nodded and went over and sat on the edge of the bed with her. I was surprised by her whimper as she took my hand. "Why didn't I realize? I just thought it was the food and the drink making the baby active and I figured I would try to sleep. I kept feeling it but then I finally dozed off and then woke up suddenly wet," she pulled the blankets away and I could see her nightgown and the sheets were damp.

"Let's get you up and changed then Mrs. Helen before the doctor gets here," Nellie said as she reentered the room. We helped her up and I got her as cleaned up as much as I possibly could while Nellie took care of the bed with lightening speed.

The room began to fill. The neighbor Thomas had told Abby to retrieve, Mrs. Jenkins arrived with her oldest daughter and soon two more neighbor women arrive. Soon the doctor was there too.

I had been by Helen's side for Laura's arrival and by Grace's for Joseph but I had been so focused on "my girls" that I failed to pay attention to the birthing process. Now, knowing labor was now but maybe seven months away for me, I focused a bit more on the doctor's actions.

"Mrs. Cooper, you have a son."

I was amazed and horrified by the experience. Amazed by how well Helen handled herself and how easily her son arrived once she started pushing. I was horrified by the obvious pain, the fluids, the blood, and the afterbirth.

Thomas was so proud. He missed Laura's birth and nearly the first year of her life. He was overjoyed and nearly overcome to welcome his son into the world mere minutes after his arrival. Henry Thomas Cooper had everyone enthralled.

It was nearly morning by the time I fell into bed. Abby, concerned for my own health, insisted that I eat something after such a long night before letting me retire.

I was exhausted but my mind was too full to sleep. I placed my hands over my abdomen, and replayed the experience, stopping on the moment when Thomas took his son into his arms. I knew I had done what was best for this baby by getting out of the house and away from Charles but I mourned for the father this baby deserved that just wouldn't exist in his or her life. I would have to be more than enough for my child – both father and mother – and no child would possibly be loved more than what I already felt for my baby.


	21. Winter 1920 to Spring 1921

**Thank you everyone for the reviews. Please keep them coming. As the human years wind to a close, please let me know if there is anything you want to know that you feel is missing or that you are just curious about. **

_Chapter 21 – Winter 1920-1921_

I tried to avoid being a distraction from their time as a just expanded family as Christmas approached. I helped out with anything they needed but I swore I would not be a burden - Helen and Thomas in their generous nature always pulled me into the fold even when I tried to step back.

I was happy, the happiest and the healthiest I had been in years. I couldn't have felt more loved than I felt in this home.

It was late January, my clothes were feeling tighter, when I first felt a movement within me. It was barely more than a flutter but it was enough. He or she was letting me know they were there.

At night, I would talk to my child. I would assure him that he was safe and protected. I would tell her how much she was loved. When I had my daily story time with Laura, I would make sure I was telling it to him or her as well.

Every few weeks a telegram or a letter would come, asking if they had heard from me. Sometimes it came from Michael and even George but often it was from Grace. Helen hated lying to her. No one knew what to believe back in Ohio, although there seemed to be doubt that I ran off with another man, but without me there to defend myself, all signs indicated that they were standing behind Charles.

The winter was harsh and kept us indoors and kept visitors away. Thomas would go to work but rush right home at the end of his day. I wished I could stay with them forever but I knew my time was limited.

By the time the snow started to melt in March, my wardrobe was thinning when it came to wearable clothes. Helen offered me her maternity clothes but being several inches taller than her I had to get some news clothes made.

It was a Thursday.

"I'm going to pick up my new expanded wardrobe," I called out to Helen as I put on my coat.

"Alright dear," Helen said coming into the hallway with Henry in her arms. "It is almost naptime for us." She hugged me and kissed my cheek. "Take your time and enjoy shopping on your own while you can."

"I will darling although I'll probably need a nap when I get home."

I made a couple stops and was heading back toward the house, packages in hand, when I felt a tug at my elbow. I turned to find Thomas had come up behind me. "Thomas, you gave me a fright. What are you doing here? Why aren't you at work?"

"Esme, dear, I need to speak with you and it can't wait," he was unusually agitated and I could feel the goose bumps forming on my skin.

"Of course," he took my arm and led me into a nearly deserted park.

"I'm so sorry Esme but Grace sent me a telegram first thing this morning. Your family knows you are here and are coming for you. I've spent the morning arranging for you to leave Milwaukee immediately."

I felt like my heart had stopped as I barely breathed, "How did they find out?"

I could tell his heart was heavy, "Sadly it was inadvertently Helen."

I was shocked.

"There wasn't that much detail in the telegram but I have my suspicions. Here is the telegram."

I read the message and fear and confusion clouded my mind.

CHARLES AND PLATTS KNOW SHE IS THERE. HE IS COMING. I AM SORRY. I BROKE HELEN'S CONFIDENCE AND DETRIMENTALLY CONFIDED IN GEORGE. KEEP HER SAFE.

I handed it back to Thomas and looked at him stunned, "I'm assuming she couldn't take lying to Grace anymore and wrote her something regarding you being safe or being here. I know Helen never meant any harm and I'm sure Grace doesn't know the whole story. But from what I understand Grace has becoming closer with George and his family since Helen and I left the area. I'm sure she confided in her brother because she trusted him but I've spent many hours talking with George over the years. He is a man of honor and respect. He believes in everything being in his proper place and I'm sure he feels that the only place you belong is beside Charles."

I thought back to when Charles was courting me and knowing how displeased George was when Charles would randomly show up unannounced to take me out. He thought it improper and I believed after we became engaged he showed some signs of relief that we were getting married. He felt deeply responsible for me when he was practically my guardian while I was teaching near his home. Charles behavior irritated him greatly even if he rarely voiced it. I don't know that he truly believed that we were doing anything improper, and we certainly were not, but I think he felt that my honor was being kept intact when I accepted Charles's ring.

"I'm sure you are right," I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up. What was I going to do?

"While I would like nothing better than to sit here and theorize with you Esme, my duty to you now is to get you out of town at once. Now please listen carefully, you have a teaching position waiting for you. I started making inquiries in December and a school near Ashland, which is a couple hundred miles north of here, was looking for someone to take over their one-room schoolhouse at the beginning of the year. I inquired this morning and they have someone filling in but are still looking for someone permanent and would be happy to have you start immediately."

"What about my condition?"

"They are aware you are expecting at the end of the school year. You also are now a recent widow whose husband died suddenly this winter. You are also an experienced teacher that comes highly recommended."

He pulled a large envelope out the briefcase he carried to work each day. "In here is everything you will need, including cash, to begin your new life and you will receive another envelope from me with documents I couldn't obtain this morning." I began to open the envelope, "Forgive me darling for picking a new name for you without your input but I hope it pleases you."

I looked at the first document, a letter of recommendation for Mrs. Anne Barstow. "I tried to pick something that would still have some meaning to you. You always spoke about your grandmother, your namesake, with such love I figured your mother's maiden name and the middle name you shared with your grandmother would be best."

"It is perfect. Thank you."

"I will take you to the train station. A Mrs. Mason will meet you at the train station in Ashland and get you settled. Abby is packing up your things as we speak. I sent word to her this morning to wait until nap time and so I must stop by the house to collect your things before they wake up."

"But I must say goodbye to them."

I could see the pain in Thomas's eyes as he firmly shook his head, "No Esme. I can't let you. It pains me greatly to separate you two but it will be too hard and take too long for such a farewell. She is going to blame herself and I know she would try to convince you to stay. She would try to come up with some type of solution and by then your husband will be breaking down our door."

I felt hot tears pooling in my eyes, "I'm so sorry to bring that horror to your door."

"No need to apologize. We brought this on ourselves. But," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small item, "we don't have time for this and I have one more thing to give you." He opened my hand and dropped a golden band into it. "I know you left your ring behind but you are a widow and as such would not be without this. It is barely more than tin but it is an important prop. Use it to ban yourself to your new life or your child but don't take it off."

"I'll use it to remember those I am leaving behind."

"Now that is one thing I hope you don't do."

I looked at him quizzically, "Esme forget about us. Forget about your family that has failed you over and over again and hasn't loved you as they should have. Let this life go and embrace your new one. I promise you that Helen and I will defend your honor until our last breaths but you can not dwell on that."

"I don't want to be the cause of friction between you and the family."

He smiled, "I believe it is a little late for that dear but even if we had to do it all over again, we would still stand by you. Whatever rift there is, which is now inevitable, is ours to bear and we have known all along that it would probably be the case. We will never reveal the condition you were in when you left us. We will never let them know what direction you headed. Besides the last envelope that I promised you will receive, you will never hear from us again. We will not try to find you. We will not try to contact you and I encourage you to move on after the baby is born. Head west as you once spoke of, although I know your family knows of your past fixation on heading that direction. Consider going north to Canada or maybe escape further to Europe, but take your new name and your new child and begin life again. Be free and be happy."

I couldn't speak but instead threw my arms around Thomas and hugged him tightly. He held me firmly to him for a moment and then released me and took my hand to help me up, "We have to go now."

I nodded and followed him out of the park and toward my soon to be former home. We turned a block early, down the street that ran a block behind the house. We cut through down the alley and came to a stop near the edge of the backyard. Thomas looked up and my eyes followed his gaze. The shades were drawn on the nursery window, indicating that the children were still sleeping. "Stay here and I'll retrieve your bag."

Just as he went to move the backdoor opened and we both froze. Abby suddenly poked her head around the doorway and motioned for us to stay there. She disappeared for a moment and then was out the door with my suitcase in her hand and rushing over to us in the alley. "I tore through your room quietly but thoroughly Mrs. Esme. I don't think I could have possibly missed anything."

"Thank you Abby."

"You're welcome ma'am. I'm sorry you have to leave us so suddenly but wish you the best."

"Thank you again."

"Abby," Thomas said, a seriousness and a slight nervousness to his voice, "Remember what I said in my note earlier. Do not let my wife know about Esme's departure. I will be home soon and I will let her know about it then."

"Yes sir," she nodded her understanding. "Good bye ma'am," she said and turned and head back into the house.

"Let's go. I don't want you to miss your train."

We headed back down the alley and moved briskly through the streets, being careful not to move so fast that we drew attention to ourselves. When we reached the station, there were only a few minutes before my train would take me away forever from the people I loved most. Thomas could sense my agitation and my grief as again the tears threatened to spill over.

He stood across from me and took my shoulders between his hands, "Esme, look at me." My face tilted upwards to meet his compassionate eyes. "I know this is so much to take in and so difficult for you as it is for me. If I could go back and change anything, I would have made sure you danced with my friends at our wedding instead of Charles Evenson, for several of them would have worshipped the ground you walk on if they had ever been given the chance to court you. You deserved to be loved and adored and honored as a wife. While I know your marriage may make you doubt the necessity or the authenticity of such a union, I hope you will find a man truly worthy of you some day."

"No, it is just me and my child now. I won't let a man rule over me again."

"But that is what I am saying Esme. When a marriage is what it should be there is an equality to it; it is a partnership not a dictatorship. It is based on mutual respect and love. There are good men out there dear and my greatest wish for you is that one finds you and makes you whole again; that your new life will include a new family and love, passion and respect, for you deserve it all. Let love into your heart because it is what makes you complete. Your ability to love is your gift and too many have tried to destroy it. Forget them. Forget us. Open your heart to someone new."

"If it is ever meant to be, I will try to remain open to it but my only priority now is the little one growing inside me."

I could feel my face flushing as he placed his hand on my stomach. "I am sorry that I will never get to meet him or her but it is for the best. This child will be loved though through space and time from Milwaukee."

"Until the end of my days, I will never be able to thank you for everything you have done for me Thomas."

At that moment, they called for my train. He pulled me to him once more. "Don't forget what I said darling. You are a treasure - sunshine and light and love. I pray that we meet again in the next life or, if God's grace will allow it, in this life, but I pray for your safety and happiness and please do as I say and forget us and move forward by moving on."

I sobbed, "Tell Helen I love her and Laura and Henry."

"They know you do," he said softly in my ear.

"And my brother."

"I will."

"I love you my dear friend."

"As I love you," he looked me straight in the eyes for a moment, pressed his lips lightly to mine and then released me. He took my arm and walked me to the edge of the platform and handed my suitcase up to the conductor and turned to me once more, "Good bye Mrs. Barstow and good luck."

"Thank you Mr. Cooper. My best to you and your family always."

The conductor held his hand out to me and I took it, stepping up onto the train, without a look back. I went inside and took a seat by the window. As the train began to pull away, I looked out to see Thomas, his eyes glistening, standing a few yards back watching the train and I disappear.

* * *

"Are you Mrs. Barstow?" asked a stout, tired looking but smiling older woman a moment after I stepped off the train.

"Yes I am. Mrs. Mason I presume?"

"You can call me Ida."

"Ida it is then and please call me Anne."

"Welcome to Ashland then Anne. I hope your journey wasn't too bad."

"I had to stay in Green Bay overnight but continued my trip without incident this morning."

"Do you have a trunk?"

"No, just what you see," I said holding up my suitcase. "I travel light."

"I should say so. Well come on then. I'll take you to your new home."

I was surprised when we walked over to a Model T parked nearby and she took my suitcase from me and put it in the back. "Do you drive?"

She nodded and warmly chuckled, "Don't look so surprised Anne. My husband died several years back and left this in the garage. I figured it should not go to waste and in your condition, it would be best for you to be driven."

My hand instinctually flew to my rounded stomach as I climbed up into the passenger seat. She started the car and nimbly started down the road, "So Anne, I'm anxious to hear all about you and I'm sure you want to hear all about the situation you are now taking over. I can't tell you how grateful I was to receive the telegram yesterday morning inquiring if the position was still available and then that you could get her so quickly."

"Oh? Why was that?"

"Because our last teacher, Miss Gibbs, got engaged late last summer and promised to finish out the school year but then changed her mind in November and decided to leave at the end of the year. Well, who wants to take over a teaching position in the middle of a school year in northern Wisconsin? I'll tell you who, absolutely no one. Besides that the weather makes it near impossible to get here anyway. So in the meantime, who ended up filling in? Well me of course."

"Of course," I smiled. I liked her already.

"My late husband, God rest his soul, was a man of influence and we were very involved in the community. People naturally come to me for things and I often feel obliged to assist. You see he was the proprietor of the local general store. My two boys are grown and run it now with their families and I help out when they need it. I've also spent many years teaching Sunday school and that led me to filling in as a substitute teacher for the school many times over the years but usually only for days at a time not months. That's a bit more time in front of a classroom than I like. Plus, I have other responsibilities - I'm also the local midwife, which is very convenient for you."

"That is convenient. Do you live near the school?"

"Just a stone's throw away. After I show you the school you are coming over for a bite to eat. I'll make sure that baby is well fed and healthy."

"That is too kind of you."

"I have my own motivation," she chuckled and I looked over at her to find her smirking, "I want you happy enough that you stay."

"Well if it is the right situation and the children are agreeable then I will. I can promise you that I am definitely not going anywhere through the end of the school year."

"How far along are you?"

"About six months. I'm due in June."

"So I have to make sure you hold it in until school lets out the second week."

I laughed, "I'll do my best. Maybe I can try to accelerate the lesson plan a bit so they get out a wee bit earlier."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Here it is."

We pulled up in front of the school. It was a decent size. I could see my quarters, my new home, poking out from the left rear of the building.

As I stepped down, I asked, "Shouldn't school be in session today?"

Ida shrugged as she came around the car with my suitcase. "The current teacher had to go retrieve the new teacher from the train station so she cancelled class today."

She unlocked the door and let me inside. It was slightly larger than the school I had taught in before. "How many students are currently enrolled?" I asked as I walked up to the front of the room, taking in the smell of chalk mixed with the many years of burning wood in the stove.

"Forty-one students, ranging from ages six now to fifteen. A couple not so bright ones at the top but they are good kids for the most part. I rarely have had to use a switch this year. Luckily it is Friday so we'll have the weekend to get you up to speed."

She pushed open the door that led to my quarters and I entered. Again, it was slightly larger than the space I had before, which was good since in a few months I would not be alone in it. There was a bed, a desk, a dresser, a half empty bookcase, a sitting chair and few other scattered pieces of furniture. It would do for now.

"I'm sorry it is a bit dusty. I didn't have time to air it out with you arriving so quickly. I hope it will do. We raised the money to rebuild the teacher's quarters just three years ago. Only Miss Gibbs, or should I say Mrs. Greene now, lived here prior to you. You even have a real bathroom and electricity."

"And that is truly appreciated."

"I'm sure it is," she said, as she put my suitcase down on the ground. "Believe me if you had seen the old place, you would be on the first train out of here."

"I'm sure it was just fine."

"I'm sure it was a hole and that we lost several good teachers because of its severe conditions. Believe me, if it still looked like that, I would have never let an expectant mother take the job."

At that moment I felt a small kick within in me and I smiled as my hands once again ran over my stomach, "I believe the baby agrees with you or the baby is telling me it's hungry."

"And I'm sure mama is too," she reached out and took my hand and started leading me to the door. "Come on Anne, there is plenty of time to chat about school and look over your new home later. Let's head over to my house and get you something to eat."

I glanced over my shoulder at the space once more to admire the space that was my new home in my new life.


	22. June 1921 Part 1

_Chapter 22 – June 1921 – Part 1_

Another school day was done. I followed the class out the door taking in a big breath of fresh air. With little more than a week and a half left until break, many of my students lingered in yard. The older girls huddled together, chattering up a storm. A few of the older boys threw a baseball around, while some others were already heading home to chores. The younger ones jumped on the playground equipment, enjoying a bit of playtime with their friends before time at home, chores and, at times, distance kept them away from each other during the summer.

"Mrs. Barstow! Look at me!" called Billy Jackson.

"No look at me!" yelled Nathan, Billy's fellow seesaw rider.

I laughed, "I can see you both from right here."

"Good afternoon Mrs. Barstow." I turned to my left to see Billy's mother Charlotte approaching.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Jackson" I warmly greeted her. "How are you today?"

"I'm just fine but how are you feeling?"

"Besides the baby dancing inside me and it being a bit warm, I feel great."

"Well you look wonderful." She grinned, "I have a strong feeling that it's a girl."

"Balderdash!" Ida was approaching from the road and had overheard our conversation. "Look at the way she is carrying! High and all forward. It's like she has a big ball under that dress. I've brought enough babies into this world including all of yours Charlotte and you know I am rarely wrong."

"I don't care what he or she is." I chimed in, stopping any debate before it could get started. "I just can't wait to meet the child."

Both women nodded in agreement as Ida's eyes scanned over the children in the yard, her eyes landing on one of the tittering girls, her granddaughter.

"Doris!" Ida barked, all heads turning to her or to Doris. "Shouldn't you be getting along to the store? Your mama is going to be looking for you."

"Yes grandmother." The wide eyed girl said a quick bye to her friends and took off running but called back, "Goodbye Mrs. Barstow!"

"Good afternoon Doris!" I called after her as she flew out the gate and down the street toward the general store.

"Her parents tell me that her grades have improved dramatically under your tutelage Anne," Ida said to me as she watched her granddaughter go.

"She's a bright girl. She should have no problems passing the eighth grade proficiency test."

"Well apparently she has a much easier time learning from you then she did from me."

"Yes, Mrs. Barstow," Charlotte chimed in, "all of the children speak very highly of you, not just my own but I hear from other students and their parents as well. Everyone is so happy that you came to us."

"I'm happy to be here," I said honestly. "I appreciate how much the community has embraced me."

"Of course we have Anne," Ida squeezed my hand, her soft demeanor coming out. "You're smart as a whip. You're a great teacher and the kids love you. And you needed some support and we are happy to oblige."

"Thank you Ida," I said squeezing her hand back, touched by her words.

"But really now," Ida said getting down to business, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm great! Really." I was surprised by how good I was feeling considering I was ready to give birth at any moment.

"Are you missing your husband?" Charlotte quietly asked.

I had avoided detailed conversations about my husband and my family. I kept the story short. My husband died of pneumonia in the late fall. I didn't realize I was pregnant until late and decided to move on before I had the baby, hence why I was looking for a job. I didn't have any strong family relationships. I was born in Ohio but had moved to Milwaukee with my husband. My husband had served in the war. And that was all they knew. As much as I liked the people here, I knew I wasn't staying to teach again next year. I wasn't going west…at least not for a while. I was looking toward opportunities in Canada or the south because I suspected that neither were places where my family would look for me. The truth was Thomas had given me enough cash that I could go anywhere I wanted.

I tried not to dwell on them but I couldn't help think about those I had left behind. I was sure there was chaos left in my wake but I was beginning to accept there was nothing I could do for that situation, as my baby kicked inside me reminding me of my future.

"At times," I said, with well rehearsed sadness, absentmindedly playing with the locket around my neck, "but I've been so busy trying to focus my energies on this child that it keeps me from dwelling on the past."

"Good for you Anne." Ida remarked, "Remember the good times but don't dwell on the past. You need to be strong for that baby."

"And myself and of course Ida and some of the other ladies will be there for you when it is time," Charlotte assured me.

"Which could be any day now!" Ida boasted. "Are these kids done yet?"

"Next Friday is commencement. I'll make it until then," I resolved.

"If you do it will be by sheer will." Ida shook her head, "I swear you look like you are ready to go soon."

"I'll make it."

That night I sat alone in my quarters, balancing my well worn copy of Jane Eyre on my round belly.

I tried to read but my mind was drifting to other places.

And as the baby was very active tonight, I finally gave up on Jane, Blanche and Mr. Rochester, putting the book down and just resting my hands on him or her.

"I know, I know. You've heard that story before. I'm sorry. I'll get some new ones after we move."

Another swift kick.

"Don't think you are getting out of reading. You will have a library of books and you will read every single one. I don't care if you are a girl or a boy you will be well read and well educated and you are going to college."

Two more kicks…or maybe one was a punch.

"That better be you agreeing with me. Two hits better mean 'Yes mama.'"

There were two more lighter hits and I rubbed my hands lightly over my belly.

"I thought so," I said quietly. I leaned over as much as I could and said, "I love you little one."

Two more light flutters and then he or she seemed to settle down for the night. I hummed and continued to run my hands lightly over him or her and became lost in my thoughts.

I thought about Charlotte Jackson's question earlier, "Are you missing your husband?" For not one moment did I miss Charles, which sometimes made me sad. There was nothing left in my heart for the father of my child. He had essentially destroyed any warmth, any care I ever had for him. What I did miss was having someone there to share this with. I remembered the look on Thomas's face as he beamed at his glowing wife. I thought of intimate moments that only my closeness to them had allowed me to witness - glimpses of Thomas patting Helen's round belly; her absentmindedly pulling his hand to her stomach as we sat talking and his eyes lighting up as I'm sure he felt Henry move; and one time, as I passed through the hall, I caught through the open door him leaning over and talking to her stomach and planting a kiss on her round belly. Yes, those were the moments I missed but not with Charles.

So I had to give the baby all the love of two parents. It didn't seem like a difficult task as I had never loved anything more than this child that I hadn't even set eyes on yet. We would see the world together.

I had started to send out inquiries on positions for the fall. I wondered where I would be a year from now. With the money Thomas had given me, I could afford to take the year off if I couldn't find the right position. He had been too generous with cash he had given me when he put me on the train. I had only looked at the letter of recommendation in Milwaukee and hadn't dumped everything in the envelope out until I got to the hotel in Green Bay. If I had seen what was in there prior to getting on the train in Milwaukee, I would have refused it. It was more than I would make in two years of teaching. When I received the last package from him that would be the last contact I would have from my family, I was shocked to find double that amount along with a new birth certificate for me, marriage license, and birth and death certificate for my fictitious husband.

Dear Anne:

I hope you are settling in well to your new surroundings. Do not dwell on us a moment longer. We are fine. Take everything in the envelope and use it to move forward. Move on. Good luck to you.

With highest regards,

Thomas Cooper

I would never be able to thank him for his generosity but I hoped and prayed that God would bless him always for his kindness and his goodness.

There was a slight stirring inside of me but the baby calmed again. I smiled and said quietly as I stroked my stomach, "It must be a good dream."

Dreams. They had protected my mind and had been my escape during the days of terror but sometimes over the past nine months they failed at what I had come to rely on them for. The nightmares were few and far between but when they entered my subconscious they were terrifying. The themes were similar. They usually always involved Charles. Charles finding me. Charles beating me. Charles ripping our child out of my arms and disappearing with him. Charles creating a monster. Sometimes it was a combination of those elements. I would wake up terrified or screaming, squeezing my arms around my stomach promising out loud to protect my child with every fiber of my being.

Most of the times though, my dreams were amazing. I dreamed of the future. I was chasing my daughter through a field, laughing and playing in the sunshine. We were dancing or singing. I sat with her reading a fairy tale or brushing her hair. I was throwing a ball back and forth with my son. I was mending a hole in his pants as I helped him with his homework. I was teaching him to play the piano. I was watching her grown graduating college. I was watching him grown putting a ring on his bride's finger. It was incredible and I woke filled me with such hope and happiness.

Sometimes another figure would join me. Often it was a disembodied hand sliding into mine or a reassuring pat on my shoulder but on rare occasions, the blond man who had haunted so many dreams in the past appeared. His appearance always surprised me but I also felt my heart lift when I saw him. I thought he would slip away when I found out that he had been nearly ten years gone from Ohio. I thought I had let him go completely when I decided not to go west, for knowing that he was in the direction I felt like I was chasing a dream and the reality of my baby was far better than a man I met once that wouldn't get out of my head. My memory of him was beautiful but reality needed to win. He most likely had a family as how could a man like that not have a wife and children? I was sure he had a perfect life somewhere on the west coast, and now in his 40s, I imagined him slightly older, sitting at night in a well appointed living room with his beautiful wife and children, two boys and two girls. He was happy and that is how he should be, that is what good men like Thomas and Dr. Cullen deserved.

I smiled thinking of their happiness and the happiness that seemed to be sleeping within me. I slowly rose to my feet and took off my robe and laid it on the end of my bed. I went to the mirror to fix my braid. I leaned close to the glass to get a good look at it as I tightened it and then stepped back. I looked at my body in the full length mirror and laughed. Ida was right, I was all belly. I had gotten so thin during my marriage that for the first time in years I looked healthy. There would be little weight to lose after I had the child because my body had regained the curves that had all but disappeared that should have been there in the first place. I looked almost normal besides the "ball under my nightgown" and the swelling of my breasts. When the ordeal was done, it would be nice to have my body back looking healthy and feeling healthy again.

I turned off the lights and slipped under the sheet, as always caressing my stomach as I drifted off into my dreams.

* * *

"So we congratulate our graduates of the class of 1921," I proudly announced.

The parents and fellow students applauded happily and proudly for the eight students who had passed their proficiency test, all of whose education probably ended today. While I was happy for their success I was also sad that growing up in this remote part of the country, they would never see much beyond here.

"Thank you for coming. Class is dismissed. Have a happy summer everyone. Please enjoy the refreshments provided by the Mason family."

The graduates rushed to their families and soon an endless stream of students and parents filed up to see me. It was hot and I was comfortable. I finally had to beg the Christianson's family forgiveness and sit down in the shade. Ida was at my side with a glass of water.

"What would I do without you?" I said gratefully.

"Faint I think," she chuckled as she watched me drain the glass. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit uncomfortable actually," I said as I fanned myself with my hand. "It's so hot out here."

"It isn't that hot," her browed wrinkled. "How about you head inside for a little bit and lay down. I'll come in and check on you after everyone clears out."

"Thank you Ida," I said as I gingerly stood up. In the last week I had gone from moving cautiously to moving awkwardly. I knew I hadn't gained much but moving suddenly felt way more difficult.

Ida had stayed close this week and I appreciated her skills as not only a substitute teacher but as a midwife. She kept the class in order when I suddenly had to step away to use the facilities. She helped guide me as my body felt changes, all signs indicating that this child's arrival was imminent.

I weakly shook a few more hands as I headed back into the building and back to my quarters, which were exceptionally tidy after I felt the urge to clean like a mad woman when I woke up this morning. As I crossed the room to my bed I felt an uncomfortable cramping coming on - actually this one was a bit painful. I closed my eyes tight and then made it the rest of the way to my bed and laid down gingerly, resting my hands on my stomach. I shut my eyes knowing in my heart that my child was on its way to meet me.

* * *

"Come on Anne! You can do it! Push!"

I was pushing with all my might but it didn't seem like enough. Charlotte Jackson was on one side of me as she promised she would be and Judith Christianson was on the other, clutching my hands as I tried to rid my body of this pain!

I may have witnessed the miracle of birth before but no one truly explains what you physically go through when you are experiencing it. The pain radiated through my pelvis, my legs and my spine. After seventeen hours in labor, I just wanted it to be over and it would be soon.

"I see the head Anne. Just a few more."

I was shaking my head. How could I make it through a few more? Charlotte wiped my forehead. "You're almost there, honey."

I yelled unintelligibly as I tightened my grasp on Charlotte and Judith's hands and pushed through the next contraction.

"The head's out. Come on, Anne."

I didn't need encouragement. I had little control over my body at the moment. When the contraction came, I pushed.

A few more screams, a few more pushes and then silence other than my own panting.

"Anne, you have a son."

The tears that had been at my eyes because of the pain were replaced with ones of joy. "Let me see him."

She smiled as she held him up for me to look down past my body to the messy newborn in her hands. I reached my arms out toward her but, "He's beautiful, Anne but let nature finish its course and then I'll get him into your arms. Just lie back for a moment and relax. You're almost done."

I was impatient but I trusted Ida. Time ticked by slowly but soon the placenta was out, the cord was cut and the screaming began. I cried at the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, it was the sound of my son announcing his arrival. As quickly as she could, Ida had him cleaned off, wrapped up and beaming presented him to me, "Anne, meet your son."

I eagerly took him in my arms, all weariness swept away, and suddenly no one else was in the room. Absolutely everything I had been through was worth it and I would experience it all over again for him. I was in awe of him. He was so tiny and had quite a set of lungs on him but as I fit him into the crook of my arm, the crying stopped. His eyes barely opened but I could see his blue eyes peering back at me through his squint. He reminded me of William when he was born. He definitely favored my family. In the morning light his hair was brown with maybe a little red in it. "Hello little one. I'm your mama. I'm so happy you finally decide to come out and say hello." I kissed my son's forehead as he began to fuss.

"I'm sure he's hungry, Anne," I heard Ida say. I looked up, having forgotten completely about the others in the room.

"Oh, what do I do?" I said, as I tried to sit up a little more but feeling a bit of the ordeal my body had just gone through.

Ida cackled. The other ladies tittered as well. Ida spoke up though, "Just bring him to your breast. He'll know what to do. You'll find it is instinctual with newborns. They don't even have to think about it."

He started to fuss more and I moved quickly, balancing him with one arm and unbuttoning the front of my nightgown with the other. I brought him to my breast and he latched on almost immediately.

"See," Ida said with such warmth in her voice. "He's a natural."

I couldn't take my eyes off of him and chuckled, "Well of course he is." I still looked at him with wonder, "He is incredible."

"Yes he is. Anne, I need to make a record of him. What are you going to name him?"

I had struggled over names for a while. A family name as a first name just didn't feel right. I had turned to my favorite novels for inspiration. I made a list of my favorite names and then whittled it down from there. A girl name came easier than a boy name but in the end there was only one that it could be. It was a name that appeared in two of my favorite novels but the one character I empathized with on so many levels more than the other - For this character sacrifices his soul for happiness and although God challenges him repeatedly and does his best to destroy him in the process he survives it all and is blessed with happiness and love in the end. That was a name I could pay tribute to and at the same time it paid a slight tribute to my late elder family member.

As his tiny fingers wrapped around my pointer finger and I watched as he gorged himself, I announced his name for all to hear, "His name is Edward Thomas Barstow."


	23. June 1921 Part 2

**Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and the many kind words for the last chapter. Thank you to my Pixie for previewing every chapter for me. **

**I had a couple inquiries about the baby's name. The origin of the name Edward Thomas Barstow - The two Edwards from literature were Edward Ferrars from Sense and Sensibility and Edward Rochester from Jane Eyre. Mr. Rochester is the one that he was really named after though. The late elder family member was Great Uncle Edwin. Thomas was of course for Thomas Cooper, Helen's husband. **

**I have decided to break Esme's Story into three "books." This will be the last chapter of Book One: The Human Years. Enjoy.**

_Chapter 23 – June 1921 Part 2_

"Come on Esme you can do it!" I looked at Grace gripping my hand on my left side as I pushed.

"Just one more honey!" My headed whipped to the right to find Helen grasping my right hand.

I heard a baby cry from the foot of the bed and looked down toward my feet.

"You have a son Esme," my mother proclaimed. "A baby boy!"

"Let me see him!" I cried out.

"Patience Esme. Patience," my mother chided as Millie floated to her side and looked down at the bundle my mother held but wouldn't let me see.

Millie smirked followed by a chuckle that felt like ice water running down my spine, "Oh he does look like Charles. Spitting image I dare say." She gave me a smug look and took the baby out of my mother's arms. I gave her a reproachful look specifically reserved for my sister and held out my arms. She didn't come to me though. There was someone else in the room.

She came forward and took him, beaming as I knew she would, "He's beautiful Esme," said my grandmother as she took him in her arms.

I smiled, so happy to see her here with him. "Please bring him to me grandmother."

An impish looks marred her face and she turned away from me. I laughed at her joke, "Grandmother, please, let me meet him."

Grace, still gripping my hand moved closer to me then and kissed my forehead. I looked at her but she wouldn't meet my eyes. I felt Helen move in, do the same and watched her also turn away.

I suddenly felt nervous and slightly fearful. I looked toward my grandmother again but her back was toward me and she was heading toward the door. "Grandmother!" I demanded. "Stop! Bring my son to me!" But she didn't stop.

I panicked and looked toward my mother and sister but they had turned, shaking their heads and were following her. "Please! Don't go! Bring him back!"

No one was listening to me. And soon Helen and Grace disappeared out the door. "No!" I yelled as it slammed shut.

My eyes flew open. It took them a moment to adjust to the dim light. It was night still and I wasn't alone. I felt a rustle of air as the door to my quarters opened and closed quietly.

I was in my bed, on my side and looking at the wall next to my bed. The voices were Ida and Charlotte.

"She's been asleep for several hours," I heard Charlotte say in a loud whisper.

"Good. She needs the rest. It will be time for a feeding soon. What time did my girls leave?" Ida's two adult daughters and one of her daughter-in-laws had relieved Judith, Charlotte and Ida not long after the birth so they could tend to themselves and their families. These wonderful women seemed ready to provide me with around the clock support and I was so grateful for their care.

"Around 11 or so." There was a pause as I heard the slight scraping of a chair and then, "Both mother and child seem to be doing well."

"She's a good woman. Strong body and strong heart."

"A good heart. She seems to care so much for her students and she adores this baby. It is like she is living for him."

"Well of course she is. A young thing like her, expecting and widowed. She is focusing all her energy and love on her child."

"She doesn't speak of her husband much."

"I have my theories."

"Theories on what?"

"Theories on why she doesn't talk about him."

"Like what?"

"I don't think she loved him," Ida quietly declared. My eyes were wide open now as I strained to hear this conversation.

"What? Why?"

"She's a widow and she was carrying, and now bore, his son and yet she hasn't said a word about him. A woman in love would be missing him or naming her child after him but she, who we know is of such a good constitution and beautiful soul, doesn't acknowledge him at all."

"Maybe he didn't love her."

"I don't know if that was the case but the attachment wasn't hers. God bless his soul but she may be better off without him."

"I just hope she is happy. She seems like a woman who deserves happiness."

"Watching her with that baby, I don't doubt her happiness."

"I'm surprised Edward hasn't woken for a feeding."

"The rest is good for both of them. I brought a plate for her when she wakes. She needs to eat."

They continued to chat quietly. I didn't mind their speculations for that are what they were. The fact was my husband was very much alive but the lack of love for him was right on target. There was no need to worry though; they would never speak to me of it.

My mind started to return to my strange and frightening dream but then I heard the fussing start across the room and soon felt a hand on my shoulder and Charlotte's kind voice saying, "Anne, your little one is hungry."

* * *

I stood looking out the window, Edward resting on my shoulder fast asleep.

It was nearly 10 in the morning and I was alone with my baby for the first time since his arrival less than a day ago. I had three hours of Edward and Anne time, before someone came to check in and sit with me again.

They had told me to stay in bed but when he started fussing in his cradle the moment after Judith left, I couldn't lay there while he cried.

He was more beautiful and more perfect today than he was yesterday. In the sunlight his hair was definitely a bronze hue but it would probably end up similar to Charles's brown shade.

He was tiny but he would grow. I remembered the dreams I had of the little boy. "But we will have so much more than dreams love. You are going to be a great man some day but for now and for some time you are going to just be my little man, my son."

I felt him stir slightly and shifted him to cradle him. As I looked down his eyes opened slightly. "There you are!" He seemed to stare up at me. "Hello my beautiful boy. Are you going to stay awake or are you going to go back to sleep?"

His mouth opened in a yawn but his eyes stayed open. I watched him watching me as I walked him around the room, humming to my Edward and making faces at him. Finally, his lips seemed to turn into a smile and I laughed, "I knew you had one in there for your mother."

I was tiring and sat down in the rocking chair that Ida had brought over for me. I thought he would fall asleep but he continued to stare at me and make faces at me and I did the same back – barely a day old and we were already playing together. Too soon the fussing began, "Hungry again?" I asked him as his face squished up and I knew the big cry was coming. "Hold on just a moment Edward." I quickly adjusted him and my clothes and just as the wail was about to begin, he latched on, silencing him. "See, much better than crying."

After switching sides, he started to drift off to sleep again. I covered myself and put him on my shoulder and patted his back. He was already asleep. I kissed his soft cheek, "I love you Edward."

* * *

"You poor thing." I said as I patted Edward's back. "See you eat too much too fast and you cough."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I called out from the rocking chair.

Ida walked in, "Good morning Anne. I brought you breakfast."

"You are too good to me. Thank you. Edward just finished his," he was still coughing, "and apparently it tickled his throat."

"I'll take him so you can eat," Ida said. I handed him over gently. "Come here big boy," she chuckled as she took him.

I sat down at the table to eat and immediately picked up a fork. "I'm starving," I stated as I began shoveling the food in my mouth.

"Of course you are! Between giving birth and now keeping this baby fed, you should probably be eating more."

"I'm going to end up looking like a cow."

"No you won't. Your body needs it right now. Besides, you look like the weight you were carrying was all baby. You can barely tell you were pregnant just three days ago."

My mouth full, I nodded in agreement. After I swallowed, "Well I see the differences from before I was expecting but yes, most of the weight seems to have disappeared once he appeared."

Ida chuckled and adjusted him up onto her shoulder as started coughing again. I watched as her hand passed over the top of his head and the expression on her face changed. She touched his forehead and saw the concern increase. My fork paused in midair, "Ida, what is it?"

She was adjusting him again to look at his face, "This little man has a slight fever."

I dropped my fork and was on my feet next to her in a moment my arms out for him, "Anne, I'm sure it is nothing. He's just a little warm."

I took him from her arms and felt his cheeks and forehead. "How could I have not noticed before?"

"You are a new mother, Anne. Don't be hard on yourself."

"I'm his mother and I didn't notice that he was burning up."

"He's not burning up! He may just be wrapped a little tightly."

I began to loosen the blanket around him. He was falling asleep again.

"Honey, calm down. I'm sure he'll be fine in a little while."

I pressed my cheek to his, feeling the warmth radiating from his tiny cheek.

* * *

Another day was dawning but I hadn't slept because he barely slept. His temperature seemed to go back to normal by midday yesterday but now, he was so warm to the touch again and he was crying…he wouldn't stop crying.

"Edward, sweetheart, I know you must be hungry. Please eat," I begged him. I held him to my breast but he wouldn't connect. He just kept crying.

I felt his diaper and could tell he needed to be changed. I laid him down, his little limbs flailing. "Shhh, little one." I hummed weakly as I changed him. The crying faded but he was still agitated. I tried to feed him again and this time he took it.

I threw my head back in relief as he began to eat. He seemed to be going slower than before but as worried as I was about him not eating before, I was grateful for the relief on my breasts.

The usual knock came at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Ida."

"Come in."

She came in the door with the usual plate, set it down on the table and then turned to me, her eyes adjusting to the indoors. "Anne, you look terrible."

"We did not have a good night. He was crying almost all night. He was coughing. He feels warm again. I had trouble getting him to eat."

Just as I had yesterday, I saw concern flash across her face. She walked over to us and placed her hand on his forehead and nodded and met my eyes. "After you have your breakfast, I'll go see the doctor and ask him to stop by to see him."

The hair stood up on the back of my neck, "What do you think it is?"

"I still don't know that it is anything but it wouldn't hurt to have him take a look at Edward."

* * *

"I know, I know. You don't feel good," said Doctor Shaw as he lifted Edward from his cradle. He was wailing and I had just set him down. He had barely slept all morning and he had been getting hotter. I hadn't put him down but it was mid-afternoon and my arms were hurting.

I was at the doctor's side but he looked over at me, "Mrs. Barstow, I have him. Sit down for a minute."

I couldn't sit though. I had a feeling deep inside that something was wrong - something was seriously wrong with my son.

I watched the doctor put him down on the table, Ida at his side assisting. He unwrapped him, trying to sooth him as he did so but Edward wasn't listening. As the doctor checked his temperature, the crying was stifled by a vicious coughing fit. I saw the doctor and my friend look at each and the look put me on edge.

The doctor pulled out his stethoscope and listened to his heart but then began moving it over his chest, trying to listen as my baby alternating coughing and crying. He picked him up and pressed the stethoscope to his back. A quiet conversation started between Ida and Doctor Shaw but I couldn't hear them over the baby.

I saw Ida's eyes look toward me several times but she wouldn't meet my eyes. Finally I couldn't take it any longer, "What's wrong?"

Doctor Shaw looked over at me with sadness in his eyes, "Mrs. Barstow, I'm afraid Edward is very sick."

"So what do we do to treat him?"

"His lungs are severely infected. I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do for him."

I let his word wash over me, sink into every pore. "There has to be something," I heard myself say from outside my body.

"Even if I give him something, it will only prolong the inevitable."

"It was just a cough, a slight fever," I barely whispered.

"Mrs. Barstow, you did nothing wrong," Doctor Shaw tried to comfort me. "He was most likely born with this. It only took a couple days to manifest itself."

"I can't lose him. He is everything to me," my voice was rising. How could this be happening?

"I'm sorry ma'am but you need to prepare yourself."

"How long?" Ida asked, coming over to me and clutching my hand.

"Maybe a day."

I felt my head become light and the world went black.

* * *

I held him to me. I sang to him. I told him stories. I wanted him to know I was there and I wasn't going anywhere. He had something to live for. He had someone to fight for.

His skin was so hot in my hands. His body was wracked with fits of coughing. He ate little. He cried when he wasn't coughing but his cries were getting weaker.

I hadn't been able to stop the tears flowing down my cheeks since I woke up from my fainting spell nearly a day ago now.

All I could do for him was try to make him as comfortable as possible and let him know he was loved. I was helpless beyond that.

Sunlight shone in the window and I looked at his scrunched up face. He was still my beautiful boy. He was still full of life but for how much longer?

* * *

It was twilight now. The sun was just starting to light the horizon. The only sounds were Ida's snores as she slept in a chair across the room and the labored breathing of my son in my arms.

He hadn't cried in a few hours. He was too weak now. His eyes were closed. He hadn't eaten anything since a little past midnight and I had a sinking suspicion that it might have been his last meal.

I silently prayed, "God, please, don't do this to me. Don't take him away from me. You have challenged me so much and I have done my best to bear it. Please let him live."

I doubted that I would receive an answer but I wasn't ready to totally abandon hope. I had come so far.

A half hour later the sun was visible on the horizon now but the only thing I could see was Edward. I looked at his face which had become almost peaceful in spite of his strenuous breathing. Suddenly his eyes opened slightly. "Edward? Honey? Your mama is here and I love you so much." I couldn't stop the sob from breaking in my chest. He seemed to look right at me and a grin touched his lips. I leaned over him, kissing his cheeks. When I pulled away to look at his face again, his eyes closed and he was once again asleep. Maybe there really was reason to hope…

* * *

The sun was high in the sky but I felt no heat. No warmth would ever touch my skin again. For my son in my arms was quiet now and finally cooling. My reason for living was dead. Edward Thomas Barstow was gone. It was a Friday.

* * *

"Unto Almighty God we commend the soul of our brother departed, and we commit Edward Thomas's body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection unto eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ…"

I went back and forth between numb and unbearable grief. I looked around at the bodies standing in the cemetery and it seemed like a lot of people. My students and their families had come out to pay their respects.

Although she was smaller than I, Ida kept an arm around me. One of her sons stood on the other side of me in case I swooned.

I stared at that tiny casket that held my beloved son.

How could this have happened? The one thing everyone always had said I was born to be was a mother and I had failed.

He had been so perfect. My Edward was beautiful. He was such a good baby. For three days my life was perfect. I had dreams for him and for us. Now, it was all in the box at my feet about to be buried in the ground for eternity.

Edward was gone and with him so went my heart.

"Amen."

* * *

"Anne, please try to eat something. I left a plate on the table for you. Then get some sleep. I'll be back early in the morning."

I nodded to let Ida know I had heard her. She walked over to me and placed a kiss on my forehead and lifted my chin to look at me and said softly, "Anne you will survive this. This community is here for you. You are young and bright. You still have great possibilities and opportunities. This isn't the end of your story."

I nodded again.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

I shook my head no.

"Goodnight then Anne."

"Goodnight Ida," I said, my voice horse, as she closed the door.

I let the silence envelop me. It was so empty now. All I could hear was crickets chirping outside. I longed to hear a baby wail but only crickets. The evidence that he existed was everywhere - the abandoned cradle, the pile of folded diapers, the rattle on the table, the rocking chair I sat in…all unneeded now.

Physically, I felt him. My body was still not completely healed from his arrival. My breasts longed for the relief of feeding him. The room still smelled of him.

I was running. I didn't know what strength set upon me but my feet were moving. I had to escape that space – the home that was ours that now was empty. I ran across the field and into the woods. The moon was out but my eyes were still trying to adjust. Did it even matter though? The tears were keeping me blinded.

I disappeared into the trees. One flew past me…a hundred flew past me. I didn't want to stop. I had to get away from that place. My foot slammed into a root and I tumbled to the ground in the darkness. I pulled my knees to my chest and screamed…sobbed…wailed…"WHY GOD! WHY!"

What was I to do now? Who could I possibly be if I wasn't Edward's mother? I had abandoned all other aspects of my life. I had run away and left Esme behind to live for Edward. I couldn't go back to the destruction I had left behind in Milwaukee or Columbus. Anne only had one mission and I couldn't move forward without the one thing that my life existed for. I was at an impasse. No one could save me. There was no reason to continue. My life was forfeit.

And with that realization I gathered myself up onto my feet and began to walk knowing that I would eventually come to what I needed.

I hadn't spent much time in the forest. I was too pregnant to do much exploring when I arrived. I had listened to my students though as they spoke of their adventures. I knew it couldn't be much further.

The moon cut through as I came up the edge of the cliff. This was it.

I kneeled down to pray one last time. "Dear Lord, I ask your forgiveness for my lack of strength in being able to continue with this life. You have left me with nothing to live for so I want to come home to you. Please welcome me home. Amen. "

I stood up and turned around and looked up into the skies, "Grandmother, Edward, I'm coming."

I leaned back letting my heels slide off the edge and I was falling, remembering my dreams of the boy. My Edward's face was my last thought before I felt a moment of pain and then nothing…

* * *

I could hear voices but everything was dark. They seemed so far away. I had to strain to hear them.

"She was a pretty thing."

"We could just leave her. Let someone else deal with her."

"I wouldn't feel right about that. She isn't even cold yet."

"Do you really want to carry her body out of here?"

"Do you really want the guilt of leaving her? She's someone's daughter."

"Fine but we are going to miss the fish. You can carry her up the trail."

"Where should we take her?"

"I guess into Ashland. There's got to be a hospital there."

"I don't think she needs a hospital. She needs a morgue."

"I'm sure they have that there too."

* * *

"Where did you find her?"

"Looked like fell off the cliffs."

"Or jumped."

"She doesn't look familiar to me. She must be from the outskirts. There's no reason to bring her inside. Take her around back. You'll find the entrance to the morgue. I'll have the doctor meet you back there."

"What do we have gentlemen?" The voice was new but distantly familiar.

"Don't know doctor. Found her at the bottom of the cliffs."

I heard a flutter of fabric. Had my body been covered? I continued to listen in the blackness but couldn't feel a thing. I couldn't open my mouth. Was I already dead or so close that this was just echoes of what was happening to me? The first voices continued while the familiar one remained silent.

"It's pretty ugly doctor."

"Wow."

"What is it?"

"Seeing her in the light. She was quite pretty."

"Howard!"

"I'm just saying, we thought she was pretty in moonlight but it is really sad now that we see her in the light that the world lost something so beautiful."

"Have respect for the dead you drunk."

"Hey, speak to yourself."

"Gentlemen, are you from around here?" interrupted the recognizable voice.

"No doc, just passing through on a fishing trip. We're from Mellen."

"Seems like you were passing around a libation tonight." Who was he?

"Well Howard here makes a mean moonshine."

"I see. Well since you have done your civic duty and brought in this poor soul, I will ignore your illegal activities and take care of finding her family."

"Thanks doc, we appreciate that."

"Now you all better get going. If you move quickly, you can get out on the water before sunrise."

"Do you need me to sign something?"

"No. I'll take it from here. Good luck with the fishing."

"Thanks doc. Bye."

I heard the shuffle of feet as they left and a door shut.

Suddenly there was that voice, again memorable, so close to me, "Miss Platt. Esme Anne Platt. Can you hear me?"

Who was it? How did he know my name? I had been caught and I wasn't dead! My brain was panicking but there was nothing I could do. I was still trapped in the dark. My mind started begging God to take me away.

"What happened to you dear girl?"

I felt my body lifted into the air and heard air whooshing by. Was this the way to heaven? Was it an angel speaking to me?

"Hold on Miss Platt."

A door opened and closed. I think I was put down. The wind had stopped.

"I'm sorry for what you are going to have to endure."

Haven't I endured enough?

"It will be over soon."

Please let it be. I wanted out of this head. I wanted to be with my son.

I felt lips press to my neck. This must be the kiss of death. It was over…then the kiss changed.

* * *

I was in hell.

God had not forgiven me for taking my life. He had sent me straight to hell and I was burning. I screamed as the fire flickered through my veins causing me agony like I had never known. The fires of hell were consuming me from the inside out and I was still trapped in the dark.

I heard chatter but I couldn't make out anything. I was sure it was devils with pitchforks dancing around my burning body. Why had I done this? What could have been worse than this pain? Would it ever end?

* * *

I was still burning and I felt like I was still yelling, but there was thumping in my ear now that pulsed from the center of my chest. Could my heart still be beating?

Although still dark, I seemed to be becoming more in tune with the world around me. I smelled so many different scents but each one individually and none were of fire, which confused me. I heard a voice I did not recognize but by his golden tone, seemed to be responding to unspoken questions.

The thumping was getting louder and faster, the burning now at the center of me, seemed completely focused on the center of my chest. I felt like I was being pulled up by the center of chest. It felt like my back was arching as my heart thumped…and then stuttered…this was it…my complete demise but how had I been in hell if my heart was…suddenly silence.

"She's confused but she hears us."

"Esme, open your eyes," I felt a hand wrapped around mine from the source of a musical and still familiar voice. Was it the same voice I heard in the dark before?

I opened my eyes to stunning vision. I was looking straight up at a ceiling but I could see every detail – every bump in the plaster and every facet of light coming from the overhead lamp. It was incredible. It was like my eyes were now microscopes. Had I been given entry into heaven? I wasn't expecting it to have a ceiling.

I remembered then the fingers entwined in mine and the voices.

I went to sit up and looked toward my hand and followed the arm up to the face.

I gasped as the most handsome face came into view, a face so beautiful that I hadn't forgotten it for ten years, a face that my memory hadn't begun to do justice. I went to speak the only thing that came to mind but a voice spoke instead that I didn't recognize, "It's you."

_The End of Esme's Story - Book One: The Human Years_

* * *

**Make sure you have me on Author Alert to find out when Esme's Story - Book Two: The Vampire Years starts, which I am already working on. **

**I am putting together an Author's Notes appendix for this story. There were a lot of deliberate choices made in words and actions in Book One. I'm sure you caught some but others you may not have caught. I'll also talk a bit about inspiration. If you have questions, let me know and I'll make sure to include the answer. **

**Please note that although I have created a life for Esme beyond the novels, I have tried to stay true to the personalities and traits established by Stephenie Meyer. I think long and hard about what the character would say or how they would react to a situation. Stephenie created amazing characters that I adore and I hope that my interpretation in honors her work. I also do the best to be true to Esme with my twitter, _Esme_Cullen.**

**If you haven't read Correspondences with Stephenie at .com/the-lexicon/personal-correspondence/ you are missing out! In Personal Correspondence #1, fourth question down, Stephenie tells Esme and Carlisle's story, which is not detailed anywhere in the books. I took what I knew from that and expanded on it. I made some alterations in the timeline to match real history and to fit the characters. **

**Thank you again for reading. More coming soon! **


	24. Author's Notes

**NOTES ABOUT ESME'S STORY: BOOK ONE: THE HUMAN YEARS**

So what was I thinking as I was writing? What inspired the writer? What in Esme's human life is carrying over to her new life? What insight can I give you into the characters?

Actual story passages from Esme's Story are italicized.

Since Book One is complete, some chapter notes refer to later chapters. Please be aware of this if you haven't read every chapter.

**Chapter 1 – July 1901**

Esme's dolls, Molly and Kristen, names were inspired by the American Girl dolls.

**Chapter 2 – September 1905**

She is protective and loving to her siblings. From early on, her mothering was obvious.

She is musically inclined.

Esme's grandmother, her mother's mother, is who Esme got her heart from. She was the glue for the family and Esme tried to fill that role but it didn't work with her human family.

**Chapter 3 – November 1907**

Grandmother sensed that Esme was special. She knew she was meant for something greater.

**Chapter 4 – June 1909**

Esme's aptitude for learning is obvious from an early age.

**Chapter 5 – Summer 1911**

This is the first chapter in first person. My feeling was that Esme was too young up until this point to be able to tell her own story.

As ladylike and proper as she can be, Esme is also a bit of a tomboy at times. She doesn't let being a girl hold her back and her parents let her get away with it for a while. They let her continue her education. She can sew but prefers to spend her time in her father's shed using her hands to create, skills that will help her one day with restorations. The tomboy also climbed trees.

Columbus was known as the "Buggy Capital of the World," thanks to the presence of some two dozen buggy factories.

Nurse Miller is 19 years old in this chapter.

Esme's first encounter with Carlisle is eerily similar to the first time he and Bella met. Esme is a teenage girl, his patient in the hospital and she, like Bella, is immediately struck by his looks when she first sees him.

The discussion about the cat, falling and one life vs. nine lives - Of course we know that Esme's life will end by falling again and once again Doctor Cullen will take care of her but this time he will give her another life.

Esme is just another patient and Doctor Cullen has exceptional bedside manner.

A young girl today may be embarrassed to have a doctor touch her skin, but back then when she can barely show her ankles in public, Esme is mortified.

Nurse Adams whisper in Doctor Cullen's ear that another patient is not doing well and he needs to check on him right away.

The moment of "twilight" is referred to several times throughout the story.

Just as Bella dreams about Edward, Esme dreams about Doctor Cullen. This also ties into Stephenie Meyer's statement that "but she (Esme) was just happy to be with the man/vampire of her dreams."

**Chapter 6 – February 1914**

Since the story is a first person tale, I wanted a way to be able to communicate the thoughts and feelings of other characters and letters seemed like a good way to hear their voice.

Thomas's background: He came from a family of similar society status to Helen's family. He is college educated. He graduated from college the same time Helen graduated from secondary school so he is about four years older than her. He started working at the same factory as Michael immediately after graduating in May 1913 and met Helen in August 1913. His last name, Cooper, was random – It was not after Coop on Nurse Jackie.

This is the first time we see Esme with some of her books. Of course Sense and Sensibility and Jane Eyre play bigger roles in "the dream" chapter and ultimately what Esme names her child. As for Bram Stoker's Dracula, it is a reference point for her on vampires.

Although healed, when the weather is just right, she feels an ache in the leg she broke.

The State of Ohio was rather progressive on education. The first junior high school in the United States opened 1n 1909 in Columbus. Most teachers attended five- or six-week teachers' institutes during the summer. Around the time Esme went into the classroom though, Ohio was changing its laws to require public school teachers to have a college education. The link to one of my sources on one-room school house education in Ohio is listed on my profile page.

Why do Will and Millie have two different teachers? Although Esme grew up on a farm, her family's farm is closer to Columbus than George's family. Because it is closer to the city, it is a larger community and therefore their school is larger than a one-room schoolhouse.

The Adam, son of general store owner James Collin, mentioned in Esme's mother's letter is Millie's future husband.

The last few paragraphs begin to establish Esme as a hopeless romantic.

**Chapter 7 – June 1915**

Peter Rathbone, Esme's first kiss – Peter for Peter Facinelli and Rathbone for Jackson Rathbone

Robert Lutz, Helen's school crush – Robert for Robert Pattinson and Lutz for Kellan Lutz

Grace (Platt) Smith turned into such a great character and I never intended her to take on the role that she did. When I first mention Grace in Chapter 4, it was just to build out Michael's family and to show that Helen and Esme naturally became close because they both had such age gaps between them and their siblings while the two of them were the same age. As I wrote more, Grace turned out to be this spirited character and I love her. Helen is soft and delicate at times - more romantic like Esme. Grace is louder and speaks her mind. Esme looks to her as the big sister on several occasions and Grace is happy to fill that role.

Charles is immediately attracted to Esme and feels like his wittiness and confidence will be appealing to this farmer's daughter. He thinks he will be something she has never encountered before and he's right. He is surprised by her aspirations and the fact that she isn't fawning over him. Right away, he sees her as a challenge.

**Chapter 8 – May 1916**

Charles is a rogue. He can be charming but he can also be a bit lackadaisical.

**Chapter 9 – December 1916**

Esme's parents want the best for her and in their minds the very best for her is to be a married woman. The fact that Charles comes from a wealthy background makes him even more impressive. They are frustrated with her because they can't fathom why she would possibly want or consider something else when this wealthy, attractive man is in love with her.

Esme isn't opposed to marriage but she is a romantic and being so always expected that she would marry a man that her heart beat rapidly. She believes in romantic love and marrying for love. She wants passion. She didn't want to resign herself to a practical marriage but she is obedient and knows at her age, she has to go through with it for the good of herself and her family.

**Chapter 10 – June 1917**

Esme would have worn a fashionable gown and the fashion of wedding dresses in 1917 matched what was popular in everyday styles.

You can find links to Wedding gowns in 1917 on my profile page.

The entire day is about going through the motions. She cares about Charles. She wants him to be happy and she wants to love him. In the back of her mind the signs are there that make her question their compatibility but she ignores them all.

She is happy because she has made everyone around her so happy.

Charles does not intend true malice when he kisses her hard or says things about treasuring her or that she is his (at least not prior to the wedding night.) He is a bit overzealous and possessive though. He does love her and he wants her and now that she has consented to be his, he wants to show her how much.

Charles is also a wealthy educated man who is "experienced." While he was in school he spent many nights drinking with his friends and sometimes woke up with a woman in his bed. He cleaned up his behavior a bit after he started falling for Esme but she also lived 50 miles from Columbus when she was teaching. She was a bit out of sight, out of mind. He wasn't always alone at night during those two months when he didn't see her during their engagement and other times while he was courting her. He never would have expected her to sleep with him prior to getting married and he wouldn't have wanted her to but that didn't mean he didn't deeply want her. He wanted to marry a virtuous woman but once the vows were made, he wanted to have his way with her and he expected her to be as equally as enthusiastic. That was foolish on his part.

He let lust above all else rule his emotions and decisions on their wedding night. In his mind, why wouldn't she want him as much as he wanted her? Hadn't she been waiting for this night her whole life? He didn't take into account how foreign or nerve wracking the situation was for her because he was used to being with experienced women who wanted to jump into bed with him. He is surprised, hurt and eventually angry at her reaction. He slaps her because she is hysterical. But the way he treats her after that is a horrible combination of lust, hurt and anger.

When it mentions him circling her like an animal, and growling, that was an allusion to the monster versus the man that we see throughout the Twilight saga. You don't have to be a vampire to see a human as prey.

**Chapter 11 – August 1917**

Charles is not beating her but he is forcing himself on her nightly. When she struggles he holds her down or grabs her, which is where the bruises come from. He has wanted her for so long and now that he can have her, he wants her all the time. If he hadn't gone off to war, he would have eventually backed down a bit but right now he is in lust with her.

Grace is placating Esme. She is concerned about her well being but she thinks Esme is overreacting and a bit naïve so therefore is trying to justify Charles's behavior. She is a bit thrown off by him trying to avoid getting her pregnant but still tries to come up with a reasonable response.

**Chapter 12 - ****World War I 1917 to 1919**

This is just a sample of the numerous letters that Charles and Esme sent back and forth to each other while he serves in WWI.

Charles misses Esme. Even though he hasn't treated her well he still loves her but being away he slightly recognizes that she has been unhappy. At the same time, he does exert his power over her by making certain demands of her. She is doing her best to be a dutiful wife and daughter-in-law. She also is the happiest she has been in her married life once he is gone. As time heals wounds, she begins to miss her friend Charles. She also is able to take a step back and think, this is my life and my marriage and I want this to work.

The broach locket has a picture of Charles in it.

Charles is doing his duty but he would have skipped it if he could have. He thinks it is a European problem. He would rather be home with his new wife.

I believe it was somewhere in this chapter that I realized that Charles reminds me a bit of Cal Hockley from Titanic. It wasn't intended but it is just who he is. He is head over heels for this woman and desperately wants her heart. He can be incredibly charming but controlling and can turn on a dime. He doesn't look anything like Cal though. Charles is about 6'0" tall, average build with brown hair and brown eyes. He is definitely handsome. In my mind he looks similar to Jack Huston. Now I didn't know who Jack Huston was or that he even existed when I started developing this story. When I saw a picture of him I was like Oh My Carlisle, it is Charles Evenson! And honestly, Jack Huston is not what I imagine Royce King looking like at all!

Helen was about a month pregnant when Thomas left. She had no idea yet.

Andrew Smith didn't get drafted because he is a bit older. He is 30 when Thomas and Charles left.

There is a mention of the Spanish Flu that at that moment Carlisle was treating patients for in Chicago.

Esme reads Cinderella to Grace's children just as she did to her dolls in the beginning of this story.

The room in the front on the right that Esme says is a mess is actually the one she has been sleeping in. It isn't really a mess but it is obvious that it is being lived in.

_I headed into our bedroom. I had barely entered in a last year and a half. It looked unremarkable now. I quickly changed and climbed into the bed for my last sleep alone. I drifted into slumber and the same dream that I had so many nights with the towheaded child in my arms played through my mind again_. There is a lot happening in the paragraph above. The room is unremarkable now because again time has healed her wounds. The only dreams I have mentioned was _"That was the first night I dreamed of Doctor Cullen,"_ at the end of Chapter 5 but since the child is towheaded and Charles has brown hair, she is not dreaming of Charles's baby. She is still dreaming of Doctor Cullen.

**Chapter 13 – January 1919**

The war has not been good to Charles. He has lost weight and aged. He has put on muscle though, which sadly eventually gives him more strength to use against her. He also comes back with the anger closer to the surface and is has made him very short tempered.

Charles and Esme are truly happy to see each other. Time heals old wounds and a year and a half apart has given them each time to reflect. He is a bit of a broken man due to the horrors that he has seen and all he wants is to come home to the woman he adores. Esme missed the man who was her dear friend before they were married and she longs to have him home. She wants this marriage to work and she wants to settle into life with him, be a good wife and start a family.

This chapter was heartbreaking to write because for one moment, for a few fleeting hours, this marriage could have worked out. I've talked with a lot of readers extensively about the events of this chapter. What is so sad about their relationship is that if Charles had given Esme just a little more time, if there were a couple more days like the morning after he came home, they would have been happy. The abuse would have never happened. She would have given her heart to him because as we know, she has such a capacity to love. They would have lived a long happy life together with a big family. He might have been able to salvage it, although it would have take longer, if he just let her go to bed the night he came home drunk but the incident on the stairs broke her heart – it also started him down the same path as his father and once on that path it is a life sentence...for both him and her.

**Chapter 14 – March 1919**

_It wasn't until I heard the front door close that I started screaming. _Esme freaks out. She is scared, hurt and angry and has a fit after he leaves. She is scared of what he will do to her and of a future with him. She is hurt both mentally and physically. She is angry that he is treating her like this and that she allowed herself to be put in this position by agreeing to marry him.

While dreams haunted Bella, they are a relief, an escape, for Esme.

The dream about Pride and Prejudice inspired me to eventually write the dream chapter.

Charles wants Esme to go see Helen because he doesn't want Helen to become any more suspicious than she already is.

Peter is Thomas. For some reason, I randomly started calling Thomas by the name of Peter along the way. I think I have caught all of the "Peters" by now and changed them. The boy that was Esme's first kiss was named Peter. Any other Peter references along the way should have been Thomas.

She is broken enough at this point that she fears becoming pregnant.

Every time Esme mentions a handkerchief, it is the one Doctor Cullen handed her in the hospital.

**Chapter 15 - April 1920**

Since cars are so important to the Cullens, I liked the idea that Esme learned how to drive as a human. Learning how to drive a Model T in 1920 took a bit of research on my part. I started with the Model T page on Wikipedia and you can find the link to it on my profile page. I also was able to find some very specific sites as well.

The song "Mama Who Bore Me" from the musical Spring Awakening lyrics seem apropos to this chapter. Years from now when Esme hears that song, it will take her back to the events of this day.

Did anyone think she was pregnant when she got sick after she ran outside?

Lazarus is a department store chain that started in Columbus.

Millie is very jealous of Esme. She wants to live in the city, have money and dress fashionably. In Millie's mind, Esme has gotten everything that Millie wants but cannot have. She feels little sympathy for Esme's problems and sides with her parents in thinking that Esme is being ridiculous. She thinks Esme is being completely ungrateful and cannot forgive her for not appreciating what Millie perceives that she has.

The bedroom scene is Esme at her most determined. By this time she usually just gave in to Charles desires. It was easier than to fight him off. He was bigger and stronger than her and no matter how much she fought she was never going to win. There was never a seduction to anything. She never enjoyed it and he thought nothing of forcing her into positions that with him felt degrading for her. Her taking control, even with an attitude, and initiated sex, was probably one of Charles favorite moments of their marriage. It made Esme realize that at times she could gain some control even if it meant doing something the she didn't want to do –at least it was on her terms.

**Chapter 16 – May 1920: Part 1**

The dream chapter took a lot of work. I pulled a lot more content than what made it in. It was at least twice as long. Much of the text is word for word. There is a lot of symbolism and hidden meaning in the text that was chosen. Much of it is foreshadowing. I'll include the first sentence of text for each section I note so you can look back at what I am referring to.

The texts used are from Jane Eyre, Emma, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, The Scarlet Pimpernel and Wuthering Heights.

"_Esme, it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland._ Of course like Jane Eyre, Esme is a teacher by calling but as you see throughout the story, Esme ends up feeling a lot more in common with Mr. Rochester than Jane. When she talks about leaving and distance could stand in for several things – the distance between Esme and Charles when she was still teaching before they were married, the distance when she leaves Thomas and Helen to teach in Ashland; or maybe it is something foreshadowing for her and Carlisle (I know, I tease).

_A moment later I was dancing in a long room._ Of course Charles represents all of the scoundrels starting with Frank Churchill.

_In an instant the scene changed again and I was standing in a beautifully appointed room at Pemberley as Elizabeth Bennet. _Of course the blond God image of Mr. Darcy is that of Doctor Cullen.

_The time, place and story change again_. _I was shaking my head, tears running down my face in the parlor at Barton cottage as I looked up to find Willoughby wearing Charles's likeness looking at me with worry and guilt marring his features. _Like Charles, the dashing Willoughby won everyone over and then broke his lady, in this case Marianne's, heart. There was so much promise that went unfulfilled.

_In a flash I was in the story again, no longer observing it as an image like a play. It was night and only moonlight lit the massive rose garden before us. _The chapter Richmond from The Scarlet Pimpernel is heart wrenching. Percy Blakeney, like Carlisle Cullen, is a tall devastatingly handsome blond Brit, who hides his true identity from the world for the sake of saving human lives. Sound familiar? Some consider The Scarlet Pimpernel the first superhero story. Esme is playing Percy's estranged wife Marguerite. In this scene she longs to tell her husband the truth about her past. She is also protective of her family, her brother. She hears so many distinct sounds. The two of them wordlessly long for each other but refuse to acknowledge it for pride is in their way. I love the ultimate symbol of adoration when Percy bends down and kisses every place her had touched and her foot tread – again, I can picture Carlisle doing it, can't you?

_I resolved to be outdoors in the sun as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to me. _I loved this description of the outdoors and sunshine, which Esme loves. The description of Frank Churchill seemed very fitting for Charles and how Carlisle would feel about him. I also liked the part about time healing her wounds.

"_The wedding is to take place quietly, in the church down below yonder and then I shall waft you away at once to town. _ This whole passage says so much about her future with Carlisle that I can't really talk about it without giving too much of Book Two away.

_Elinor opening the door, saw I was stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, Willoughby's letter in my hand, and two or three others laying by me. _This is a reference to Esme's over all heartbreak.

_``But you see that Jane,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, ``does not think so ill of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt.'' _This section refers to Charles public appearance versus who he really is. She sees Millie as Lydia because her sister continues to be blind to Charles's true nature – she only sees the charmer and won't listen to the truth.

_Elinor would not speak. Willoughby repeated the enquiry with yet greater eagerness. _Elinor is Helen and Willoughby is Charles. Think about it in the context of Charles confronting Helen after he finds out that Helen was hiding Esme.

_He turned now to face me and a new story inserted itself. I was in bed and I was sick…I was dying. Catherine Earnshaw was dying and I had rightfully blamed Heathcliff for my suffering but Charles's face disagreed. _Take the words spoken by Heathcliff and put them in Charles's mouth. I can hear him cruelly saying them to Esme.

_"I have no doubt of their being happy together," I said ._I thought Mr. Knightley's "at three and twenty," rant was deliciously ironic coming from Carlisle's mouth. I also found the following line very appropriate, "A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals." Also, Mr. Knightley's declaration is just so romantic, how could I not include it – although there are things in there that fit their future relationship, but again I don't want to give too much away.

_You," Mr. Rochester looked down at me and spoke with such wonder in his voice, "you strange, you almost unearthly thing!_I know it is ironic that Esme is declaring her love for Edward but it is Rochester. Again, the future.

_Elinor hovered in the doorway, I, once again Marianne, was in bed, my eyes closed. _Symbolism -Helen, her best friend on earth is hovering in the doorway, while Carlisle watches her with no intention of leaving.

_Heathcliff was crying out with passion and grief, "__Esme Evenson, may you not rest as long as I am living! _Again the words of Heathcliff screams I can hear coming from Charles.

_The scene was calm again as Knightley teased me, "'Mr. Knightley.' _This is a reference to Esme only knowing Carlisle as Doctor Cullen in her human life and that she uses in their married life too as a term of endearment. There is also a reference to her speaking his name ten years ago, which is how long the time is between when Esme is treated by him and when she meets him again.

_Mr. Darcy stood before me anguished, "Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. _I liked the reference to Darcy's father. Although Carlisle's lessons from his father were different, they were not much better – he chose to rise above it just as Darcy did.

_Mrs. Dashwood appeared ready to cry under the weight of her happiness as she admitted to Elinor that, "Colonel Brandon opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we traveled._ What a dream this section is for her. Her mother speaks so highly of Colonel Brandon/Carlisle and finally sees the faults in Willoughby/Charles. "My partiality does not blind me: he certainly is not so handsome as Willoughby;" – I disagree - as handsome as Charles is, we know Carlisle blows him away.

_``You are joking, Esme," Jane Bennet with Helen's face exclaimed, "This cannot be! Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.'' _Having so many moments of realization or declaration of romantic love are part of Esme's heart longing to feel that.

_"You speak of friends, Esme?" Edward Rochester asked me._ *sighs*

_My spirits were rising to playfulness again. I wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with me. _And Esme will want Carlisle to account for it as well.

The following is one of my favorite passages in literature and seemed so appropriate for Esme and Carlisle - _I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest - blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh_.

**Chapter 17 May 1920 – Part 2**

Nope, she is not pregnant yet even though she is once again feeling ill. Esme's health isn't great because of the strain she is under. She is depressed. As I point out repeatedly, she has lost weight because she has no appetite. This was a woman who was the picture of health prior to her wedding.

No matter how bad things have become with her family, Esme is still loyal to them and performs the role of dutiful daughter.

Esme is not in the wedding party.

"_Because just last week my body indicated to me that I wasn't so even if I was impregnated this week, that would be quite an acceleration to illness from it within days." _There is a bit of irony in this statement as we know her future daughter-in-law's pregnancy will be quite accelerated.

What I loved about writing the discussion of the dream between Esme, Helen and Grace is that Esme talks about the elements that she understands but doesn't know the correlations to her future.

**Chapter 18 – August 1920**

Someone asked me if the young doctor that treated Mary when she fell was Doctor Cullen and the answer is no.

Joyce mentions that she would do anything for her sons.

Mary is sympathetic because she is so blinded by love. Jonathan never had the best intentions going into this marriage. He didn't plan to be an abuser but he's not happy with himself and he takes out all his anger and pain on her. It's that, "take that smile off your face or I'll knock it off" and with Mary that is exactly what he did. And once he started he couldn't stop. Hitting her made him feel like he was controlling her. And that is the same with Charles, he feels like the only way to control Esme is to dominate her.

Someone said to me that they thought Esme was trying to feel Charles out to see if he would be a good father. In actuality, she's more concerned about keeping a child safe. She doesn't want the child abused or he/she to witness any abuse or the abuse cycle to continue, i.e. raise an abuser. She also fears for her own health and safety if she were to become pregnant.

_There was humor in his voice, "No you don't. Whether your love me or not, you don't hate. It's not in you. So no matter how much you might want to despise me you are not capable of it and that is your curse dear. You are just too damn emotional." _Esme's fatal flaw turns into her greatest gift.

**Chapter 19 – November 1920 – Part 1**

I knew early on that Esme would end up back in the hospital that she met Carlisle in. I also knew she would run into Nurse Miller. I loved including the discussions regarding the hospital staffs memories of Doctor Cullen. You figure every time the Cullens move, they leave behind humans that will remember them.

Esme's body is pretty battered. He hit her so hard that he cracked her rib so she has a lot of bruising on her torso. She has bruises higher on her arms and on her thighs.

_I couldn't speak. Why did my life always change in this room? _This is a reference to her broken leg changing to the course of her life because it ended her education. Now, it is a baby changing her direction.

_I walked over to my jewelry box and opened it. I looked down at my dress and removed the locket broach with his picture that I always wore as a sign of respect that he never returned. I placed it in the box. I then looked at my left hand - at the bands that bound me to him. I asked God's forgiveness as I removed the diamond ring and the band of gold placing them both in the jewelry box. I glanced down at the rings that had rarely left my hand since June 1917, tears burning in my eyes for what could have been when that ring went on my finger on that beautiful day. I shook my head and swatted my tears away with the back of my hand and then slammed the jewelry box shut. Never again will I wear such a band as I will never vow myself to any man ever again. _She never thought this day would come. She had every intention when she said her vows of until death do us part. This is very difficult for her. As much as the baby is a catalyst to leave, her never expected her life to end up like this. She is also angry so she vows never to bind herself to a man again. We know she doesn't keep this vow either.

The only reason Joyce has stayed until this point is for Esme. Without her, she has no reason to stay so she quits. After she officially resigns, she calls "Mrs. Evenson," Esme. Esme had asked her to call her Esme early on but Joyce couldn't because Mr. Evenson wouldn't like it. Since she was no longer in his employ, she could as a friend call her by her name.

**Chapter 20 – November 1920 – Part 2**

The names Laura and Thomas came from my fabulous beta TheCullenPixie.

**Chapter 21- ****Winter 1920 to Spring 1921**

What is the deal with Thomas? No, he does not have romantic feelings for Esme. He is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Helen, which makes him love what she loves. Next to Thomas and her children, Esme is Helen's next greatest love. Thomas sees Esme through Helen's eyes so of course he adores her too. Thomas also is just an incredibly good person in the same way that Carlisle radiates goodness.

You'll be happy to know though that when Charles did show up on his doorstep the next day with Robert Platt and Jonathan Evenson in tow, Thomas punched him in the face. Actually, it was quite a brawl and Robert and Jonathan had to separate them. Charles ended up much worse for wear than Thomas did.

What became of the Coopers? Thomas and Helen's relationship with her family is very damaged by them hiding Esme. They are never truly forgiven by Esme's and Helen's parents, as well as Helen's brothers. Grace struggles with the conflict because she loved Helen and Esme so much and is a bit heartbroken to have lost both her "sisters." Helen has four more children. Thomas's company in Milwaukee shuts down operations a few years after the "Esme incident." They end up moving to Detroit and Thomas goes to work for one of the automakers, and continues to move up the ladder. They spend the rest of their lives in the Detroit area. They have a long and happy life together.

References to sunshine – Not only does Esme love the sun but she brightens a room when she walks into it. Imagine how hard it will be when she has to avoid it.

The only people Esme thinks to send her goodbyes to are Helen, Laura, Henry and Will.

Isn't Ida a hoot? Esme needs someone like her in her life. Ida is someone who says it like she sees it and in some respect similar to Grace. Ida is a woman who has embraced her independence after her husband passed. She loved him and they had a wonderful marriage but she wasn't going to stop living because he was gone.

Mrs. Greene is homage to Ashley Greene.

**Chapter 22 – June 1921 – Part 1**

She still has the locket with her grandmother's picture around her neck.

She hums to the child in her womb, just as we know she hums in the saga. It is a habit she developed in her human life. She does it when she is happy but it is also calming to her.

The whole sequence of her talking to the baby and then thinking about her dreams and Doctor Cullen were a late addition. Even here, she can't imagine a life where Doctor Cullen does not have a wife and family – it is what she would want for him.

She was cleaning like a mad woman the morning she had the baby because she was nesting. It is also a tribute to my own mother who was on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor the morning of the day I was born.

"_You'll find it is instinctual with newborns. They don't even have to think about it."_ Words to think about in the future.

If Esme had had a girl it would have been Elizabeth Helen Barstow - Elizabeth for Elizabeth Bennet and Helen for her second cousin. Elizabeth of course is also Edward Masen Cullen's mother's name and Elizabeth Reaser plays Esme in the movies but they were not Esme's reasons.

Esme also liked E names because it is a tribute to her real name as well.

The two Edwards in literature are Edward Ferrars from Sense and Sensibility and Edward Rochester from Jane Eyre whose character Esme defended to Helen at Millie's wedding reception in Chapter 17. Keep in mind that Edward Ferrars also became a clergyman, and of course Carlisle is the son of a clergyman. Edward was the #9 boys name of the 1920s. The late elder family member was her Great Uncle Edwin (Note in Twilight when Bella is telling Charlie that she has a date with Edward Cullen, Charlie "accidentally" refers to him as Edwin).

Someone told me that they have read other fanfictions where Esme names her son Carlisle. Carlisle was not in the top 500 boys names of the 1920s and is a unique name so I'm curious as to what her reasons are for that name. For now, I don't read other Esme stories because I have my own idea, as you can see, of the events of her life and I don't want to be influenced by other stories. When I finish Esme's Story, I look forward to reading other authors' versions and see what the motivation was behind Esme naming her son Carlisle.

**Chapter 23 – June 1921 – Part 2**

The dream that opens the chapter comes from Esme missing her family but also is a foreshadow. The baby leaves with her late grandmother = goes to heaven. Her living relatives leave too symbolizing the final separation from her family. She is about to be left completely void of all of them. Once she is changed, there is no possibility of going back to the Platts and her grandmother and Edward have moved on to heaven.

The coughing wasn't from Edward eating too fast; it was the early signs of illness.

Timeline of Esme's last week

Esme goes into labor on Friday afternoon.

Edward is born on Saturday morning

Sunday morning is when Edward and Esme have their alone time.

The first coughing is Tuesday morning.

Doctor Shaw comes on Wednesday afternoon.

Edward dies on Friday morning.

Edward is buried the next morning.

Esme's life ends on Saturday night/Sunday morning.

Esme' heart stops on Tuesday night.

_I heard a voice I did not recognize but by his golden tone, seemed to be responding to unspoken questions._ It is Edward speaking, answering to what Carlisle is thinking.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Catherine Platt (Barstow) mother

Robert Platt (father)

Millicent "Millie" Platt (sister)

William "Will" Platt (brother)

Adam Collin (Millie's husband)

Michael Platt (Robert's cousin)

Sarah Platt (Michael's wife)

Howard Platt (Esme's second cousin)

George Platt (Esme's second cousin)

Louise Platt (George's wife)

George Platt Jr. (George and Louise's son)

Grace (Platt) Smith (Esme's second cousin)

Andrew Smith (Grace's husband)

Fred Smith (Grace and Andrew's oldest)

Edith Mary Smith (Grace and Andrew's middle child)

Joseph Smith (Grace and Andrew's youngest and Esme's godson)

Helen (Platt) Cooper (Esme's second cousin)

Thomas Cooper (Helen's husband)

Laura Cooper (Helen and Thomas's daughter)

Henry Cooper (Helen and Thomas's son)

Grandmother, Esme Anne Barstow

Edwin Platt (Robert and Michael's uncle)

Charles Evenson (Esme's husband)

Jonathan Evenson (Charles's father)

Mary Evenson (Charles's mother)

Mrs. Hudson (childhood neighbor, has a cat)

Jim (farmhand)

Doctor Warner (childhood local doctor)

Doctor Johnson (Columbus doctor, works at the hospital Doctor Cullen work at)

Nurse Miller (the younger nurse)

Nurse Adams (the older nurse)

Miss Keller (William's teacher)

Miss Mills (Millie's teacher)

Rachel Mead (Esme's elementary school classmate)

Joseph Williams (Esme's elementary school classmate)

James Collin (store owner)

Peter Rathbone (Esme's first kiss)

Robert Lutz (Helen's crush)

Arthur (Charles best friend)

Joyce (Charles and Esme's housekeeper)

Abby (Helen and Thomas's young, live in servant)

Nellie (Helen and Thomas's housekeeper)

Mrs. Jenkins (Coopers' neighbor)

Ida Mason (Anne Barstow's friend and midwife)

Billy Jackson (Anne Barstow's student)

Nathan (Anne Barstow's student)

Charlotte Jackson (Billy's mother, Anne Barstow's friend)

Doris Mason (Ida's granddaughter, daughter of her oldest son)

Judith Christianson (Anne Barstow's friend)

Doctor Shaw (Edward's doctor)

If there is something else you are still curious about, ask me!

The first chapter of Esme's Story: Book Two: The Vampire Years debuts on Friday, February 26!

I'll try and include more chapter notes actually in the chapters in Book Two. Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this story, please let me know by posting a review!


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